


My Magdalena

by DrNeverland



Category: Fallout 4, Silent Hill (2006), Silent Hill (Video Game Series), Whispering Hills
Genre: Alternate Universe - Horror, Alternate Universe - Silent Hill Fusion, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Body Horror, Body Modification, Cages, Canon-Typical Violence, Chains, Choking, Cock Piercing, Crossover Pairings, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Crucifixion, Cutting, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Demons, Don't Judge Me, Don't Like Don't Read, Dreams and Nightmares, Dubious Consent, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fingerfucking, Forced Pregnancy, Genital Piercing, Gods, Group Sex, Hell, Horror, Human/Monster Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Lap Sex, Large Cock, Licking, Magical Pregnancy, Masturbation, Medical Inaccuracies, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Mental Institutions, Mental Link, Minor Character Death, Monsters, Multi, Nipple Licking, Nipple Piercings, Nipple Play, Non-Consensual Bondage, Nudity, Oral Sex, Other, Past Relationship(s), Penis In Vagina Sex, Piercings, Prophetic Visions, Razors, References to Depression, Religious Cults, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Restraints, Rings, Ritual Sex, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Size Difference, Size Kink, Skull Fucking, Slow Burn, Stabbing, Survival Horror, Survivor Guilt, Telepathic Bond, Temporary Character Death, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Violence, Threesome - F/M/M, Thunder and Lightning, Time Shenanigans, Transformation, Trauma, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Violence, Weapons, wound licking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:02:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 62,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25422832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrNeverland/pseuds/DrNeverland
Summary: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT.Seriously, read the tags.Last chance to read the tags. Got it? okay.Pyramid Head/The Executioner brings a lost soul to Valtiel, demanding she be put back together to face his Judgement.Valkyrie was just investigating strange happenings at Parson's State Asylum when she entered a realm that drew her in with the sound of her son's voice crying out in the dark.Val has heard of other beings that judge the dead - she's named after one of them - but she never thought they were real, or that she would face one herself someday.(Titles inspired by A Perfect Circle's "Magdalena.")
Relationships: Porter Gage/Female Sole Survivor, Pyramid Head/Female OC, Pyramid Head/Sole Survivor
Comments: 45
Kudos: 40





	1. So Long Forgotten

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a "get these two to bone down" kind of fic, but I scrapped that, started over, added more angst, more sex, more character to Val and the Executioner. 
> 
> This is based off the Whispering Hills mod and my extensive research into the Silent Hill series. I know that "Pyramid Head is the embodiment of James' guilt," but since this *isn't* Silent Hill canon, he embodies Val's guilt instead. 
> 
> Really, this fic is a patchwork of canon, headcanons, and kinks. Most of what you need to know about Val comes up in the fic, so don't worry about reading the other works featuring her if you're just here for the Pyramid Head part. I get it. ;)

“...-took something from you? And you want it back?”

“...”

“I see… you desire a replacement… recompense for what was lost. You know what you ask is not within my general purview… Rebirth is not so simple… not when what you want is so… _banal.”_

Nothing.

“I know. It _has_ been so long, and mortals wandering freely into our realm have gotten even rarer than before… I will do what you ask. But, break her again, and she stays dead. I care not for your playthings.”

The human woman left in Valtiel’s care lingered at the crossroads of Life and Death. Someone from the Outside World finding their way to Hell was an exceptional rarity as of late. Few of God’s worshipers remained on the surface - scattered by some other Apocalypse, rendered only by the humans themselves. While it netted Hell so many fresh souls to torment, it made Valtiel’s position almost useless.

Without God, what needs had Her attendant to care for?

That was why he took such care in re-crafting the human brought to him by one of the Executioners. A mortal woman from the Outside, not dragged down at the point of death, she had come in _alive,_ and the Executioner had ensured her soul had yet to separate from her body by bringing her to Valtiel. His reasons were his own - something about a lost bauble, an item that bound the Executioner to his purpose that had vanished at her hands - it mattered little to Valtiel.

What mattered was that he could bring her back, and in doing so, craft a new Vessel for God. He merely needed to be patient. He had waited so long already.

He took months, stitching and pulling sinew, repairing holes and replacing destroyed organs. As his skillful hands rebuilt her corpse, he could read the history of her life - she was resilient, had been wounded time and time again, even frozen for two hundred years, and yet had made it halfway through Hell before the possessed rabbit suit had caused the final deathblow.

Valtiel cared little for what Executioners did with their charges most of the time. He had his own collection of failed Vessels from centuries past that had all died too soon, before the rituals could be completed and God could walk the Earth again. And he made sure they suffered for their failures. It was one of these Vessels that he called up when he needed spare parts - this mortal woman was missing the vital organs for Rebirth. In reading her body’s history, he discovered that she had them removed, following the birth of her last child. To Valtiel, he was doing her a favor. She would not only carry a child again, but she would carry _God -_ wouldn’t that be lovely?

She would get to live again, and become the Mother of God. Not that the Executioner had to know what kind of repairs Valtiel did.

Plunging a hand into the Vessel he called up from Below, he fished around in the woman’s guts, making her shudder and wail in agony.

“Quiet. You had your chance. Then you went and denied God. How very selfish of you,” he admonished, throwing the failed Vessel against the wall. She exploded in a shower of viscera before reforming and sinking to the floor.

Hanging from his ceiling, Valtiel pulled open the woman on the slab. She was alive, but barely, as he attached the new organ inside. Once it pulsed with the serum-like blood he had available to him, Valtiel applauded his own genius. Her heart beat slowly as he finished up the interior. He strengthened everything, so she would not be so fragile anymore, every organ reinforced so that they would not collapse under the Executioner’s abuses. Her nervous system was made sharper - every sting of pain or throb of pleasure would be stronger to her, but her reflexes would improve. Valtiel needed her to be able to reach the surface again, someday.

“What they don’t know, benefits all. You shall carry God, my dear, once the Executioner has his way with you. Your suffering will bring back God, and perhaps humanity will learn the peace of death. Won’t that be nice?” he said, beginning to sew her torso closed.

Humming tunelessly to himself, Valtiel made his stitch lines disappear into the rest of the new Vessel’s pre-existing scars, including where Robbie had gutted her in the labyrinth. He bathed her skin in oils, so that it would resist tearing at the Executioner’s rough hands. He took away most of her human needs - she would no longer suffer thirst or starvation, but she would still be able to consume flesh to feed God. She would no longer _need_ to sleep, only doing so if she wanted.

Pausing in his work, he took the woman by the neck and jostled her corpse.

“You had better appreciate this. I would not take so much ****care**** , had I no need of you!” he growled. She made no reply, still hovering between life and death. His rage bubbled away as he realized he was yelling at a dead woman. He stroked back her hair, fixing the mess he made. Such outbursts were unbecoming of an artist. He gave her body a last look-over before he would send her on her way.

“Perhaps, trinkets… humans like trinkets.”

Dropping the woman again, Valtiel curled into a vent and disappeared. When he returned, he swatted away the Mumblers that had assembled under his worktable.

“Pathetic whelps! She’s not _your_ mother. Your mothers are all dead,” he hissed, striking at the child-like monstrosities that scrambled away from him, back into dark corners.

“I hate this realm.” Valtiel rested his hand on the woman’s stomach, where he burned in the same seal he wore on his shoulders. It dissolved away again, hidden under her skin.

“Once you’re awake again, my Mistress… you will tear them all down, will you not?”

Knowing he would not receive his answer for some time, Valtiel began to attach the little things he had taken from other bodies. Rings of steel pierced into sensitive flesh, between her legs and on her chest. They would invite the Executioner’s tongue to play. A blindfold of fresh leather around her eyes. Opening her jaw, he set a large ring, parting her mouth to provoke the Executioner to abuse it.

As a final touch, and to remind himself why he put in _months_ of effort in cleaning up this human host, Valtiel draped her body in crimson silk, as God once wore. Unfortunate, that this woman lacked the red hair like God had, but her natural shade, as it grew out, was the lovely black of charred bone. It was acceptable.

“You are the new Vessel. Couple with the Executioner. Escape. Do not disappoint me,” Valtiel commanded as he laid the woman back down. Reaching to his left, he began to turn a valve. The woman on his table gasped in pain, breath forcing its way back into her lungs. She writhed and shuddered before passing out again. She lived, Reborn.

If Valtiel had a mouth, he would have smiled.

“Excellent.”

Not trusting one of the beasts of Hell to deliver her properly, Valtiel folded the woman’s body into an iron cage. He tucked her arms and legs behind her, so that the silk would cling invitingly on her body. He fully ****intended**** for the Executioner to take her immediately - Valtiel’s patience was vast, but finite. And the last thing he needed was for him to just chop her up again. If that happened, Valtiel would rip him and every last one of his kind limb from limb. Waiting in the Abyss had done _awful things_ to his temperament.

Once she was packaged up, Valtiel pushed the cage into one of his vents, sliding in behind her. He would make the delivery himself, right to the Executioner’s lair.

* * *

Valkyrie groaned. Her body ached all over, like she’d taken a tumble down a steep, rocky hill. She tried to open her eyes, but there was only darkness. Trying to speak, she felt the metal prying her jaw open, leaving her to gurgle incomprehensibly. Her tongue pried at the ring, but to little avail. It was wedged behind her teeth. She wriggled in the cramped space she was in, hearing something growl back at her in the dark. All she knew was that she was moving, being pushed or dragged along in some sort of cage. She could feel the woven metal against her arms as she struggled to move.

Taking a deep breath, she tried to recall the timeline events that brought her to wherever she was.

She had been investigating new creatures that had been seen around Parson’s Asylum. Jack Cabot had given her the keys to the place, as he no longer needed it himself. The strange ghouls had come to resemble women, but word from Raiders who had run into the things and lived said they were not normal Ferals. They sometimes had weapons, many of them looked “like sexy nurses,” but could swarm and tear apart a man in seconds. It seemed some of them had even taken to using their bodies to lure in some of the dumber Raiders into a trap before the other “Nurses” would attack.

On top of that, feral dogs had gotten more grotesque, small, faceless things with long claws had shown up around some of the old schools, and figures with long legs but their arms straight-jacketed by skin would spit poisonous acid at the unwary. Rumor also had it that some strange radio signals were being heard in the woods, and travelers had seen something tall and gangly walking through the fog-shrouded trees. Some swore they heard the voices of their loved ones calling to them - usually the _dead_ ones.

Fog had started to cover the Commonwealth… and it seemed to shroud her memories as well. She could remember going into the Parsons Asylum basement… she thought she heard a voice calling out, a child… Shaun? From there, everything was blank. Or maybe, given her circumstances… it was better that she didn’t remember.

Val’s stomach dropped as she felt like she was falling, only coming to a sudden stop when something jerked her back, keeping her from striking ground. She could hear something walking, the sound of metal dragging across stone. A voice, sounding more like growls and rumbles, came from above her as she felt her cage being slid across a floor. Shaking with a fear unlike any she had felt before, Val held her breath, waiting. Piercing shrieks surrounded her, giving her an immediate headache and drowning out other noise.

Valtiel had landed in the room of the Executioner who had made his request. The pyramid-masked creature appeared from the shadows, dragging a spear behind him. Valtiel slid the cage across the smooth stone floor, letting the Executioner stop it with his foot. Roaches swarmed over the cage, examining the contents without going inside.

“My apologies, for taking so long, but it has been _such_ a long time since I had a chance to create… Rebirth is so easy, but _craftsmanship_ takes time… I hope she is to your liking…” he said, watching the Executioner’s blank mask. It was considering what Valtiel had said, no doubt. Though they served God in similar purpose, Valtiel knew the man-beasts to have a disrespectful amount of agency. It had to come from being so closely bound to the humans they sought to punish. Their minds would link with the subject of their punishment as soon as they crossed paths. It certainly explained why they threw _fits_ if their charges died before their sentences were carried out properly. They could ****feel**** things… human things… _emotions_.

Disgusting.

Valtiel wished they were more obedient. Still, they had their uses.

“Well? Aren’t you going to open it?” Valtiel asked, impatience growing.

The Executioner gave him a good, long look and picked up the cage. Dragging it over to a display of bones and viscera, he dropped the cage into a pair of large hands and walked away. Instead, he turned his attention to a Mannequin, interested in pulling it apart over opening his prize. He yanked off a leg, splattering the floor in a line of ichor.

Valtiel snarled at the Executioner. “You’re not even going to ****play**** with her? After all that _work_ I put in to bring her back for you?!” He started to charge - a glint of metal whizzed through the darkness and speared Valtiel through his chest, pinning him to the back wall of the room. The Executioner turned his head towards Valtiel; he gave off an aura of smugness that he had hit his target without looking.

Pulling himself free of the Great Spear, Valtiel held a hand over his bleeding wound.

“Ingrate,” he hissed. The puncture was not fatal as he had no heart to stab. It was merely a testament to how impudent the Executioners could be.

“God did not make you to be so _childish._ ”

Aching now with the new hole in his chest, his pride more hurt than his corporeal form, Valtiel crawled back up the wall, disappearing into a darkened shaft. He would pick Vessels himself from now on. How hard could it ****be**** to get a human pregnant?

Watching Valtiel make his hasty retreat, the Executioner waited until he could no longer hear the sounds of the valet crawling through the overhead vents. He tossed the broken pieces of Mannequin on top of others he had been biding his time with, making a pile of monstrous parts in the corner. Some of them began to reassemble themselves and limp away while his back was turned.

Approaching the display where he left the woman, the Executioner looked her over carefully. She seemed to be in one piece, not made monstrous like the other denizens of Hell he was already bored with. His charge was whole again; he could feel her confusion and fear without even having to read her mind. Her cage rattled with her terrified shaking, sweet gasps of anxiety coming from her gagged mouth. She wore red… he did not recall asking that Valtiel _dress_ her, but the shade was close enough to blood that he could forgive the old valet’s artistic overkill.

Picking the cage up, he ripped the door off and tossed it behind him. The woman trembled, trying to back herself further into the small box until he dumped her out of it, onto his floor. He watched her struggle to get her bearings, clasping at the cold stone under her. She sat up on her knees, trying to pull off the bindings around her head - that was when he took her by the wrist and dragged her onto her feet.

The woman yelped in pain as he stood her up, trying to wrench her hand out of his grip. However, he was not done examining Valtiel’s work. Lifting her so she had no purchase on the floor under her feet, the Executioner brought up her free hand and gripped both in his fist so that he might examine her with less flailing.

Bringing her to an area with more light, he got down on one knee, draping the woman across the other. He ran a hand up inside the silken wrap, feeling the skin of her thighs. She squeezed his large fingers tight, and he felt how supple she had been made. Pushing his hand farther up the dress, he ran his fingers over her belly and up over her chest, kneading her breasts and making her shiver.

Begging sounds came from her throat; she wanted him to stop, confused as to where she was and who _he_ was. Instead, he ripped away the dress, exposing her body fully to him. She was pale, not so pale as the dead, but fair-skinned all the same. She had life to her flesh, unlike the graying monsters of the abyss. Lines from battle, not unlike the scars on his own body, stood out in her flesh, marking a history of violence.

Pushing her legs down to stop her squirming, the Executioner lolled out his tongue, the blackened appendage laving over the scars, tracing them and leaving trails behind. Her skin broke out in fine bumps, and the confusion and fear in her mind shifted towards disgust and anger. She bucked and arched her back, trying to break free of his grip. She snarled and cursed him out wordlessly - even gagged, he could feel their meaning in his mind.

Good. He had been bound to a violent woman - he _wanted_ her to fight.

Putting her on her knees before him, he reached around the back of her head and released the gag from her mouth.

“Fucking _thanks_ , asshole,” were the first words she said to him.

A ragged laugh broke through his helmet. The sound made her pause, and she reached up, blindly feeling out his location. He was tempted to leave her there, stumbling around in the dark, but he was also _curious_ as to what she would do. Her hands found his abdomen first, accompanied by a shocked gasp.

“Holy shit…”

Working her way up, he tipped his head down so she could find the helmet. Once she gripped the sharp edge of metal, recognition started to pour into her mind.

“You.” She jerked her hands back and fell onto her rear, trying to crawl away backwards and rip off the blindfold at the same time. He let her go - there was not far she would get. He watched her back into a fence. With no farther to escape, she ripped the blindfold off, looking up at him with wide-eyed horror.

“How did I get back here?” she demanded.

He tilted his head to one side. He couldn’t speak, but he could convey some meanings to her, if he wanted. He chose not to. Instead, he got to his feet and crossed to where she sat against the fence and picked her up under her arms.

“Hey, no! Bad touch!” she yelped, struggling to kick him.

He simply held her out at arm’s length until she gave up. She was no match for his power.

“Why are you so stupidly huge?” she grumbled, slumping in his grip. “Your workout regimen must be _killer_.”

For that, he dropped her.

“Ow!” she groaned, now on the floor. “Look, triangle-face…”

Before she got into whatever bargain she was going to offer, he reached down and grabbed her long hair. Dragging her to the pile of bones and gore again, he held her up in front of it.

“I… is this about the bear?” She reached up and grabbed his wrist to relieve the pain in her scalp. “It vanished when I touched it. I don’t-oof.”

He tossed her into the skeletal hands, letting them grab and re-position her so she leaned back, all four limbs held apart in an X.

“My safety word is ‘Buttercup,’” she said. She was joking, trying to allay her own fears with wit. She still struggled in her bonds, but the bones had a stronger grip than she could break.

He could feel her fear mounting, smell the sweat as it started to break out on her skin. Her heart beat wildly as a caged bird. All the sensations were delicious to him.

Stepping closer, his tongue lolled out again; she gasped and froze up when he made contact, making a line of saliva from her belly button to her collarbone.

Reaching down, he took the rings in her nipples in each hand, giving them a small tug. She arched her back and groaned, jamming her eyes shut. More confusion radiated off her mind - she wanted him to do that again, and hated herself for wanting more. Sweet guilt for her lust over someone different fed his damned soul.

Obliging her desires, he gave both breasts another pull, feeling her cry out in her mind, even as she bit her lip and fought another moan. Not to be denied, he looped his tongue down to the ring over her clit, giving it a flick. She tensed up and opened her eyes, brow furrowed in her shock.

“What the fuck?” she gasped. Looking down as much as the restraints allowed, she watched him tease the outside of her cunt with his tongue. “How the-oh God…” Her head dropped back as he pushed his tongue inside, tasting the juices of her arousal.

“You move pretty fast, huh?” she breathed, trying to wrest back some control over the situation. As if she had any to begin with.

“Don’t even ask a girl out--oh _fuck_.”

Every time she tried to come up with another witticism, he drove his tongue in deeper, fucking her lazily with that alone. He toyed with her nipples, tugging on the rings with little care for if it seemed to hurt. Not that he even felt the pain coming from her. All he sensed in her mind was _want, want, want…more, more, more…_

He could give her more. Her begging and twisting under his touch had his cock growing thick under his wrap, but he was also much more patient. As soon as she started to comment on his cock, his tongue snaked out to tug on her clit ring and her thoughts blanked out again.

Once he had worked her up into a shivering mess, he backed away, admiring his work. She was afraid, but not quite of him… her desire to be had by the Executioner filled her mind with questions of her own sanity. A few tears rolled out of her eyes onto her red face. He licked them away, watching her try to jerk out of his reach.

He laughed again, the dry cough of a noise echoing in his mask.

“Fucking… funny… huh?” she panted, flushed pink all over from orgasm. “Can’t even get yourself off, gotta get your kicks from mmmph-”

He had shoved two fingers into her mouth, hooking his thumb under her chin. He could, if he wanted, rip the entire jaw off. At least she wouldn’t be able to talk, but he had only just gotten her fixed. Valtiel was already put off from repairing her once. He didn’t think it could be done again.

Instead, he massaged her tongue with his fingers, letting her taste the blood and oil that stained his skin. She tried to bite, her teeth barely making a dent in his flesh. Pulling his fingers out again, he put his hand over her cunt, spreading her labia. He began to massage, slipping in just his middle finger.

“Oh… oh fuck… please, not more…” she begged, tensing up. Tears rolled out of her eyes again. “Give me a break, big guy…”

Slowing his hand, he just pushed the finger in and out slowly eventually adding the ring finger. She bit her bottom lip, so he pried her mouth open with his free hand and slipped his tongue inside. Groaning, she pushed back with her own tongue. He let her jaw go, and she sucked on his tongue of her own volition. Her torrent of emotions slowly ebbed into acceptance of her fate - she stopped fighting him.

How disappointing.

Drawing out his fingers, he stepped further back. He licked his hand, watching her closely. She looked over his way; he could feel the confusion and the relief of not having another orgasm forced out of her bleed over the bond they shared.

Valkyrie’s chest heaved. He wasn’t going after her again, but he seemed to be contemplating his next move. She watched him turn over his hand - his left hand - and a glint of metal caught the light. She focused on his hand as best she could. His left ring finger was bloodier than the others, seeming to bleed on its own due to a gold band cutting into his skin. It was a ring, not unlike a wedding band, except it looked like it was made of golden thorns.

As she studied it, a sharp pain manifested on her own left hand. Curling her fingers as best she could see, a matching band had appeared, cutting into her ring finger with razor-sharp barbs.

Glancing between the ring and the creature, a name sprung to mind, one she had only mentioned a few times in recent history:

“Nate?”

At the sound of the name, the masked creature staggered back as if struck by something. Turning her attention toward him, she watched as he clutched at his helmet, doubling over in pain and letting out miserable wailing from underneath. He clawed at the grating of the mask, his fingers pulling and bleeding, but to no avail. From under his long wrap, a swarm of roaches appeared, screaming and bubbling up from the floor like flood-waters. He dropped to his knees in the middle of them, the skittering insects heading straight for where Val was suspended.

They started crawling all over her, their shrieking reaching a cacophony that pierced Val’s skull. The swarm started biting her all over, still screaming and covering her prone form. She could see the creature trying to crawl over to her. His movements were stiff and jerky, like watching a film with missing frames. The roaches swarmed over her face entirely, the stings and screeching unbearable until she passed out.

_“There she is. The most resilient woman in the Commonwealth…”_

_“Commonwealth…”_

_“...woman… resilient… is she there…?”_

_“...The woman… there…in the ---wealth…”_

Valkyrie groaned as she came to. Her body itched all over. Her mouth felt dry, and she had a splitting headache. The area around her was dark, barely lit by distant firelight. She found she could move again, her arms and legs free. She sat up slowly, trying to rub away the ghost sensation of bugs crawling all over. The roaches were mostly gone. A few empty carapaces littered the floor around her, but they were all rolled over onto their backs.

_“There she is.”_

_“...the… woman…”_

_“Commonwealth.”_

Val froze at the sound of voices puncturing the quiet. Blinking as she adjusted to the dim light, she realized some of the lights were moving, scuttling back and forth across the room. Roach bodies crunched as whatever-it-was moved closer. The voices repeated the same line over and over again, broken up and rearranged. One sounded terrifyingly familiar; the other two were electric echoes, not unlike the voices of Synths. But the one…

“Kellogg.”

At the sound of its name, the thing in the dark scuttled forward. Val yelped as she came face-to-face-to-face with an amalgam - it looked like the remains of Conrad Kellogg, stitched and bolted into some sort of giant scorpion, with the rest filled out by a couple of his personal Gen 2 Synths serving as other limbs and heads. The center head was mostly Kellogg, except the part where she had blown his face off was replaced with half a synthetic skull, an angry red eye glaring through the dark at her. It bared vicious, metallic teeth, snarling at her. Six eyes, all glowing red, watched her in the dim light.

Val crab-walked backwards as far as she could, slipping over bones and viscera as the scorpion-Kellogg approached.

_“There.”_

_“Woman.”_

_“Should have killed you while you were still on ice.”_

_“...killed you…”_

_“...on ice…”_

Val pressed her back into the metal grating at the end of the hall, with Kellogg looming right in her face. With no weapons or means to defend herself, the abomination had her pinned, helpless. One of its arms shot forward to grab Val’s throat, push her along the heavy grating, scraping her back raw as it lifted her up. The thing grinned up at her, three mouths of needle-like teeth glinting in the darkness.

“Kellogg… let me go…” Val gasped, kicking her legs under her.

One of its limbs raised up, a long, serrated blade at the end of it. It thrust the knife into Val’s shoulder, pinning her arm against the wall. Val cried out at the burn of metal in her arm, feeling it go numb as she dropped her grip on Kellogg’s wrist.

At the back of the creature, a long tail made of Synth legs, covered in leather and plates of armor like Kellogg’s jacket, lifted up. The end was a wicked-looking hook, and something dripped off the end of the scorpion-like stinger.

Val closed her eyes, waiting for the strike. Instead, she found herself dropped to the ground. The Kellogg monster snarled and backed away - its tail end had been lopped clean off and laid on the floor in front of Val.

Beside Kellogg, the pyramid-headed creature had appeared again, currently dragging his knife out of a groove left in the stone floor. The Kellogg monster reared back, hissing at him, circling around in a defensive posture. The knife came over again in a high arc, nearly cleaving the beast in two as it leaped out of the way. Still, another arm came off, leaving the creature with a bloody stump.

Standing between Val and Kellogg, the masked monster held his knife out in front of him, challenging the scorpion-beast to keep going. Hissing, the thing turned and leaped up onto the nearest wall, scuttling up and off into the dark.

Val shrank down, reaching out for the severed tail-hook. She almost had it in her hand when it was scooped out of her reach by her captor. Looking up from the floor, he seemed even taller, more statuesque.

“Uh… thanks for the rescue?” she offered. As he just stood there, almost unmoving but for the even pace of his breathing, Val got to her feet. She pulled her right arm to her side, the pain so strong as to almost feel numb. She held her arm up with her left, looking away from her captor.

“Probably not a rescue. Just don’t like other people playing with your toys, right?” she said, getting no sort of answer. The masked creature turned away, pitching the tail-hook over the fence into the abyss below. The other severed arm followed shortly after.

 _Damn,_ thought Val. It might not have done much, but the scorpion stinger might have made an adequate weapon. Against her knife-wielding captor? Probably wouldn’t make him flinch, but there were _other_ things down there.

“Don’t suppose you have a band-aid…” she muttered. Her back felt like it was on fire with the long scratches starting to heal.

“You know, I really value our conversations,” she added, frustrated by having no means to _talk_ with him. She’d take a grunt or two, as long as it meant he understood.

The Executioner tilted his head, watching his charge as she picked herself up. He could smell the fresh blood on her skin, saw the wound left by the scorpion. She had been damaged, and he had failed to do it himself. She did not bleed for him - and that was a problem.

Snatching her by the good arm, he dragged her closer, despite her protests. His tongue snaked down into the wound, tasting the fresh blood. He felt her shudder; he held her up while she gagged at his touch.

“Oh, God…” she said, convulsing in his grip. He didn’t stop, cleaning the wound thoroughly until he was satisfied. Before recoiling his tongue, he snapped it toward the ground, shaking off the metal bits clinging to it.

“That was so gross,” she muttered, pulling back as he let her good arm go. She hugged her arm against her body. Feelings of nervousness radiated off her again, an uncertainty of how to speak to him.

“Do you…” She stopped and sighed, pushing her hair out of her face. She pulled on its length, holding it out. “Christ, how long have I been here?” she asked, perplexed at her _hair_.

Mortals.

Turning away from her, he circled the room, studying the ceiling above. He held out one hand, the other gripping the edge of his helmet as he tuned his senses toward the ceiling. The scorpion was gone. The scent of its blood was fading, and he no longer heard it moving.

Good.

Now that he was certain they were alone, he returned his focus toward Valkyrie. He could feel her guilt under the surface, buried in a mountain of other issues he had no business with. Since she had arrived, he had been cuffed with a small marker of his duty to her: the gold band encircling his finger. She had one herself, now that she had accepted the reality of her situation. It was not his fault she could not understand his Judgement.

Still, that left one question unanswered: the presence of the abomination. It was a beast specifically crafted from her own fears, the man at its center the core of her guilt. Yet, it was not an Executioner. Merely another demon. He would figure it out later. Now that he had Valkyrie to himself once more, he intended to continue her punishment.

Clapping a hand on her shoulder, he shoved Valkyrie toward the pile of bones, more hands coming out of the gore to clasp at her. He felt resignation claw at his mind, coming from his charge. She turned and fell into the hands with a hiss.

“You know, big guy, we could work out a sign for this sex slave thing we’re playing at,” she said, not even fighting her bonds. “Just give me a thumbs up or something when you’re good to go. No need to manhandle me. I’m obviously not going anywhere.”

Her resignation was disappointing. To think that he only ****desired**** her as a sexual poppet! She truly had no knowledge of his purpose nor her own. That he would only use her to merely sate carnal desires was… _insulting._ There were many other things he could do with her. Bloodier, more painful things.

He stood over her, fuming, reaching out to strangle her for her ignorance when she spoke again, her voice much smaller.

“I’m sorry, Nate.”

That name again. It brought him pain because it brought _her_ pain. He drew his hands back as if she burned him. She was referring to ****him**** , he knew this, as the ring on his finger burned and squeezed, cutting deeper into his flesh. He clawed at his helm, the name echoing in his head like a church bell. He dropped to his knees, beating his fists on the ground as more roaches swarmed around his legs. Some were smashed under his fists, some he grabbed at just to crush and feel something else. He was ****not**** her dead husband, but the _name,_ being _named_ by a human. It hurt for reasons beyond his comprehension.

As he rested on all fours, the wave of agony and rage draining out of him, a light touch met his shoulder. He jumped back onto his haunches, watching her. She was free of the display, the bones having collapsed with his lack of focus. Valkyrie gazed at him with a strange expression; the look on her face was _erroneous,_ not one he needed nor desired. A word, a feeling, alien to him but familiar in a vulgar way came to his mind.

 _Pity._ She _pitied_ him.

Coarse laughter shook his body as he leaned back, tilting his head upward as far as he could lift it. A human pitied an Executioner. Her ignorance was ****staggering.****

“Hey.”

He dropped his head down again, looking at her. She still had her hand raised, the matching ring linking them making her finger drip blood. She edged closer, as if approaching a wounded animal. As soon as she was within reach, he snatched her arm and drew her into his lap.

“Oh. Okay.”

His whole body shook with fury tempered by his own bemusement. One hand clenched into her thigh, hard enough to bruise. The other cradled the back of her head, tangling in her dark hair. He knew he was pulling at her scalp when she hissed in pain. He did not relent for it.

“Better than throwing me across the room, I guess.”

He huffed.

“If you’re… _not_ Na-” He clapped a hand over her mouth before she could finish the word. She pulled at his hand and he let her move it. His breath still came in deep gasps, but it was slowing. The pain ebbed back to its normal level.

“If you’re not my dead husband, who are you?”

 _Philistine._ No one knew of him on the Surface anymore.

“Do I just… call you ‘big guy?’”

He scoffed.

“Triangle face?”

He dug his nails into the flesh of her thigh, deepening the bruises.

“Pyramid Head.”

He dumped her on the floor and got to his feet. Picking up his blade, he spun around and pointed it at her, bringing the tip up under her chin. There were so many words - many languages had names for something like him. He forced his meaning through the connection at her. Visuals of him, and other incarnations like him slaughtering apostates, tormenting the irredeemable, bathing in their blood… Perhaps she would _learn_ _something_.

****I am Punishment. I am Judgement. I am Damnation. I am God’s Will made flesh.** **

****I am the Executioner.** **

With each statement he shoved into her mind, the Great Knife followed, jabbing her in the chest just enough to leave his mark above her heart. She tried to back away, so he just forced her back with his blade. Her wide-eyed expression was betrayed of the feelings of awe and wonder. Respect, no… _reverence._

“You’re… a Psychopomp.” Realization washed over the bond, almost refreshing as pure water with her recognition of his station.

“But… _you’re real._ ”

Drawing his sword upright, he stood it in the floor, resting his hands at the hilt. He drank in the devotion, the fearful adoration of his charge. Respect was long overdue, and tasting it again - he craved more.

“I’ve never heard of _you,_ though. I’m, uh, _Valkyrie_ … named from the Norse myth.”

He scoffed. Lesser gods.

“So… if you’re… God’s Will… then… God is real?”

He nodded, once.

“Huh.” She remained on the floor, seated, staring at him in astonishment. Absently, she rubbed at the mark he had made just between her breasts. The blood dripped down, wasted.

Leaving his sword standing on its point, he approached her again. She sat up straighter, not merely cowering before him, but no longer throwing her irreverent comments at him, either. More wonder, tinged with a hint of apprehension, bled through the connection.

Scooping her up in both hands he flicked his tongue out, washing away the blood before it got too sticky. He slipped his tongue between her breasts, circling one and earning a gasp for his teasing.

“That… is still pretty weird,” she breathed. Arousal started to eke into her emotions, lacing with the fear and veneration. This time, however, she embraced her desire.

“Are you going to punish me?” Her voice was soft, dropped low so that only he was meant to hear. The lust mounted in her heart; guilt fizzled at the edges - an apology to some other human lover in the Surface World. But the _want_ … ****that**** remained.

Putting her to her feet again, he gestured for her to wait. Stalking away from her, he pulled the bone altar into the shape of a seat - a throne - and eased into it. When he settled back, he beckoned for her with one hand.

_Come._

Valkyrie swallowed a huge lump in her throat. She tried to keep calm, but the realization that she stood before an actual Psychopomp had her shaken to the core. She wanted to deny it, cast out the fear of him with healthy skepticism, but there was too much proof to the contrary. Even if he was not really a servant of ****God**** , he was definitely _something,_ and very powerful. He could manipulate whatever slice of reality it was he called ‘home,’ summoned screaming cockroaches at an instant, and wielded a blade as tall as she was. His sheer strength alone was what had first made her want to just give up - she might be agile, but all he needed was to catch her _once,_ and he had already done that.

She was his captive, and now he wanted her service. The thrill of her situation should have made her sick, but instead she craved his attention.

He was a Psychopomp, one of the creatures she had been taught to emulate by her adoptive family. But instead of the skeletal form of the Grim Reaper, Death came for her clothed in dangerous, powerful flesh.

When she hesitated to move from where he left her, he gestured again, curling one thick finger up slowly. As she took a step forward, he turned his hand, waggling his finger at her.

_Not like that._

He pointed at the floor. He meant for her to crawl.

“Shit,” she hissed, dropping down to her knees. Her back was still raw from Kellogg’s attack, her shoulder ached where it had stabbed her, and now she knelt before a masked monster - The Executioner - crawling across the cold stone floor.

She reached the base of his throne, looking up at her masked warden from his knees. She jumped when his hand moved to the side of her neck, his fingers circling her skull like one might hold a glass of wine. He pulled her closer by one hand, the other drawing back his heavy leather wrap.

Val chanced a look down. His cock laid between his legs, just as thick and heavily-veined as the rest of his body, proportionate to its owner… just like the rest of him: far bigger than any human man.

“Holy shit,” she gasped. He let go of her neck and placed his hand at the back of her head, guiding her face towards his lap. He needed no other form of communication; she got the message loud and clear.

“I stand by my assessment of ‘big guy,’” she muttered.

Taking his cock in both hands, she heard him inhale above her, but he did not push her further, waiting for her to get to work. It felt heavy and warm, certainly bigger than she’d ever had before. At the underside, a column of piercings greeted her, a ladder of metal barbells lining the underside of his cock.

She took a deep breath and opened her mouth. _Fortune favors the bold_ , she told herself, bringing the head close and giving it a cautious lick. Fingers shifted at the back of her skull, but he waited.

_I can do this._

Closing her eyes, Val encircled the head of his cock with her mouth, tasting the bitter salt of his skin. She paused, adjusting to the feel of her jaw stretching open, waiting for it to pop, lock open, and cause her to bite him. Or worse, her teeth catch one of the piercings and _pull._

That moment never came. His cock slid into her mouth with no problem, the underside pillowed by her tongue. She could not take the whole of it at once, but even as he guided her down further, she felt him bump the back of her throat and her gag reflex didn’t trigger.

Pulling away, she felt him resist with his hand, but he did not force her back down. She wiped at her mouth, where saliva had begun to dribble out. Glad to not be choked, it was still… unnatural.

 _What has he done to me?_ Val wondered, beginning to suck him again. She moved her hands up and down the length, following down with her mouth as far as she would allow before sliding back up.

A pleased sigh aired above her; she peeked up, seeing nothing but the shadow of his mask and the slow heave of his chest.

Val slowly picked up the pace, guided down by his hand and finding little resistance in coming back up. When she reached the head again, she swirled her tongue over the tip, lapping at the clear fluid that had begun to leak out. He grew harder from her ministrations, his cock pulsing in her grip. She thought she would be made to bring him to climax when he pulled on her hair again, making her stop.

Leaning forward, he curled one arm around her torso, mindful enough to not jab her with his helmet, placing her on his thighs. Val balanced on her knees, feeling his cock rest against her stomach. Seeing the length of it against her body gave her a hint as to how _deep_ he could drive it.

“Oh… fuck…”

He nodded.

His serpentine tongue descended from beneath the helmet again, pressing against her stomach and sliding downwards. Circling her clit, he snagged the metal ring and tugged, sending a shock of pleasure down her spine.

“H-hey… take it easy.”

His deep laugh choked out again as he gave the ring another pull, reminding Val that he was in charge.

A flare of anger had her smack his chest, even if to no effect. It made her feel better. Despite being overpowered and overwhelmed, she didn’t want to give up completely.

“I said, be careful, dammit. I’d think God’s Executioner would show a little decorum.”

The helmet tilted to one side, as if he considered her words. He tucked her against his chest, hooking the heavy helm over her shoulder. Pulling her legs further apart so that she straddled him, he drove his tongue up into her cunt, twisting and curling over.

Val shivered, clawing at his shoulders. She could feel his cock against her stomach, thick and unattended as he prepared to play with her.

“Fine.”

Wrapping her arms as far as she could reach under his helmet, Val pulled herself up. She ground her pussy against the underside of his cock, earning a sharp inhale from him. Their piercings dragged against one another, sending tiny zips of arousal up Val’s spine. She heard him grunt in response, his body tensing up all over.

 _Caught you off guard, did I?_ she thought, pushing her hips up further. His tongue was still inside her, but she could torment him, too.

Adjusting her grip so that one hand held onto the grating of his mask, Val moved her hips faster, the ring at her clit catching against his piercings again. She could feel his grip tighten on her ass as he helped her ride up and down. Juices dripped from her cunt, mixed with his thick saliva.

“Fuck me,” she breathed, realizing she was more into this than she expected. He could tease and torment her, and she could do the _same to him._ It was intoxicating, that kind of control.

Pushing up onto her knees, Val took the head of his cock in hand. His tongue retracted quickly as he anticipated her next move.

“I said, _fuck me_.”

And she let herself sink down onto him. The fit was tight, should have burned with the stretch, but her body allowed for his girth. She felt her cunt accept his entire cock as she eased down, settling on her knees in his lap. She trembled with the effort of holding still - logic told her to get off, while lust commanded that she _get off._

Heavy breathing came from the Executioner as she adjusted; he was being patient. Too many questions lingered in her mind, and they were not what she wanted to think about now. She should have been begging for mercy, or fighting with every ounce of her energy, but all those thoughts dissolved away, leaving her to concentrate on the reaper she straddled.

Valkyrie gripped his shoulders and drew herself back up, feeling every agonizing inch of his cock pull at her from within. Once she was near the head, he pushed her back down, slowly. Taking control back, he brought her back up, a little faster, repeating the cycle until she was being shoved on his cock entirely by his own actions. She held onto his wrists for purchase, gasping and crying out every time he drove into her.

It felt entirely too good, the idea of pain drifting away as he fucked her, snapping his hips upward to meet hers when she came down on his cock. Val’s grip on his arms loosened as she felt her heartbeat race beyond its normal limits, her body going limp up against his chest. Her moans fell off into mewls and whimpers as orgasms wracked her body, with little sign that he was done with her yet.

Standing, he pulled Val off his cock and flipped her over. The bone altar flattened to accept Val on all fours, though her resolve to stay up on her arms faltered. She dropped down, ass in the air as the Executioner positioned himself behind her, sliding his cock back into her cunt with no issue.

Valkyrie gripped loosely at the gory edifice she laid on. Her eyes rolled back into her head as he pounded into her. His hands on her hips were making new bruises, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Her body could take it - the confidence that she could weather his abuse mixed with the pride that she _could_ survive this, feeling another orgasm wrack her body. Her thighs were slick with evidence of her enjoyment, ripped out of her by a monstrous boogeyman.

A second wind overtook Val as she came to her realization - she could fuck this monster, make ****him**** want to fuck her, drive ****him**** crazy. She got her arms underneath herself and got up, bracing for his thrusts.

“That all you got… big guy?”

Calling him names again seemed to rile him up again, as the Executioner scooped his arms under her torso and lifted her off the altar. One hand squeezed a breast with crushing force - Val _laughed._

“Don’t like that, do you? I’m not - oh, _fuck -_ respecting your title?”

He snarled from under his mask.

“Come on, _big guy._ Don’t tell me you’re _sensitive?”_

His left hand came to her throat as he continued to pound up into her. Val’s own left came up to relieve her windpipe for a little air. Another quip loaded up in her mind and died on her tongue as she made contact with his hand. Her ring finger burned, and she felt blood dripping from underneath the golden barbs.

Visions flooded her mind - Marrying Nate before a justice of the peace, giving birth to Shaun, fleeing to the Vault - watching Nate die at Kellogg’s hand. Tears flowed out of her eyes as she relived hunting him down and putting him in the ground. Shaun telling her that he had set up Kellogg to die as mutual revenge. Meeting Hancock. Leaving Hancock. Destroying the Institute, Nuka World, imprisoning Gage, reuniting with him…

As she faded from consciousness, she felt the Executioner snap his hips forward in a final thrust, dumping cum into her body as she went limp.

Val came to with the feeling of something moving between her legs. Her body was sore. Every muscle felt tense, as if she had been climbing a mountain, just to be struck by lightning. Her head throbbed like something was trying to claw its way out from within.

Casting around in the dark, she began to sit up, when a dark shape over her pushed her back down. A heavy hand settled on her chest, while the Executioner’s tongue idly lapped at her aching cunt.

“It’s you…” she murmured, senses slowly coming back to her. She laid across his lap - He had redressed, his skirt making for a sort of hammock between his legs. She swatted at his tongue, having no strength to pull it out.

“Knock it off,” she grumbled. He continued to clean her up, disregarding her comment.

Not knowing or caring why he bothered, Val closed her eyes. She her head against his chest, hearing the slow pace of his breathing. But no heartbeat.

“It’s your fault I passed out.” Val murmured, closing her eyes again. Somehow, she knew the accusation was wrong, but her head hurt too much. She lifted her left hand and looked at the ring gleaming there. The barbs looked like they had retracted, but not enough to make it appear as an ordinary ring.

She didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t want to know why she was “married” to the Executioner, why either of them seemed to suffer at the mention of her dead husband, or why guilt still clawed at her for his death.

High above the pair, hidden in shadows, Valtiel watched the Executioner clean up his charge with his tongue. He trembled with anger - he had felt the mark burned into the Vessel’s womb alight with their coupling and had come to watch. He was disappointed.

Primal desire had driven the Vessel to push her new mate to continue, and he had, right up until the moment of his release, when her body wilted in his hands. He had watched the Executioner hold her aloft, testing for signs of life. She had survived their mating, but Valtiel felt nothing but dissatisfaction. She was not going to be pregnant after their first try.

No matter. He had other ways to continue pushing them together. The scorpion built from her fears of Kellogg had only been the first trial. The woman had many other monsters in her past, plenty of creatures for the Executioner to “guard” her from.

Turning back into his vent, Valtiel slithered off to his chambers.

He could create horror. He could manufacture something as puerile as _love,_ if that’s what it took.

They ****would**** resurrect God. It was just a matter of making sure the Executioner took _good care_ of the Vessel.


	2. Black Madonna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Val meets Valtiel during an exploration of Hell. It does not go well.
> 
> Pyramid Head is also unhappy to find she has been sneaking out.
> 
> Kellogg reappears, and Valkyrie must face him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Emotions might hit a little harder, y'all. Brace yourselves.

Time passed strangely in Hell. With no visual reference to the outside world, there was no indication that hours or days were going by. All Valkyrie had to go on was the length of her hair. It had just dusted her shoulders when she last had it cut - it fell between her shoulder blades now, but it had been even longer. She broke a piece of bone off the altar and rubbed it on the stone walls, fashioning a crude knife. It was sharp enough to cut hair,at least. On occasion,she used it to stab some of the lesser creatures that wandered into Pyramid Head’s chamber while he was away on some other grim errand.

Since the gate was never barred to her, Val had begun to venture out, bone knife in hand, filthy silk wrap wound around to give her some form of modesty. She rarely got far. Sometimes, the hall at the top of the stairs contained Urchins: horribly flayed humanoids with long, cruel spikes shoved through their bodies. Their miserable wailing could be heard down the stairs whenever they lingered close, so she had learned to avoid them. Nurses were a threat, but some had the awareness of a wet napkin, allowing Val to slip past them unnoticed. She did not try to attack the lone ones she came across - she recalled that they usually traveled in packs like feral ghouls. The sound of one in distress could bring another dozen down upon her.

The most curious creatures she found were also ones that made her the most homesick. Hell hounds that groaned in human-like voices prowled the halls. However, once she started bringing rancid meat up from the altar, she found their loyalty quite easily swayed. Though they _looked_ terrifying with their burn-scarred skin and wicked fangs, they came to act as docile as a regular dog - so long as she brought them treats. She wondered if they were smart enough to learn tricks. It would help dull the monotony of time’s passage.

The worst, not in terms of fear, but in terms of heartache for Val were the Mumblers. Small, with indistinct features but long, sharp claws, they acted the most like children, reminding her of the ones she left behind. Their headless forms with toothless gaping maws were disturbing. The blackened, skinless flesh looked painful, and their incoherent muttering was maddening. Their stubby legs made running difficult, as their torsos held all their weight near their shoulders, and they often tilted to the point of nearly flopping over when they ran by. Despite all this, they were the least hostile - they tended to drop down and huddle into balls at the first noise, trembling until the perceived threat had moved on. The only time they became a real threat was when the numbers were in their favor. Still, the Mumblers made her miss Freya and Shaun, and she wondered if Gage had given up being their father, if they were okay…

Rare was the venture beyond the first hall without one or two of Mumblers hovering near Val’s knees, muttering nonsense and sometimes clinging to her makeshift dress while she explored. Like the Groaner dogs, they enjoyed the rancid meats she would carry, sucking down the rotten flesh like a snake swallowing live prey. Sometimes they just ran up, accepted their free snacks, then darted back into shadows. Occasionally, they toddled along, making the lonelier days more bearable.

With the childlike Mumblers (and the odd Groaner or two) tagging along, Valkyrie made her explorations of Hell - short and unhelpful as they were. The place was a labyrinth, the walls frequently blending together to hide openings and corners. She only managed to find her way back by keeping one hand on the wall as she walked, escorted by peculiar creatures that waddled or padded along behind. Short trips often meant she was “home” before Pyramid Head, keeping his mercurial temper at bay.

One day, her trip became the farthest she had gotten without becoming lost. A long, narrow, gray hall met her, illuminated at the end by a shaft of white light. Curious as to what lay at the end, Val crept forward, her knife held tight at her side. As she walked, she heard sounds of feet retreating. Turning to look, she saw the pair of Mumblers that had followed her today shriek and run from the light. The Groaner that tagged along gave chase, yelping after them, soon leaving Valkyrie in perfect silence.

“That can’t be good,” she muttered, still venturing forward.

Slipping through the narrow exit, Val found a place that felt as familiar as it was foreboding. It was a church interior, with soft carpet beneath her feet as she reached the center aisle. Carved pews of dark wood flanked the sides. The walls held pristine paintings depicting some sort of story across them. At the pulpit, an elegant stained glass window, containing the image of the same redheaded woman from the paintings, glowed in a rainbow of color. Deep red candles flickered in sconces along the wall, and the heady aroma of incense made her dizzy.

It was probably the strangest part of Hell, being so clean and perfect and quiet. The moans of tormented souls were muted here, the room cool and inviting. Too inviting, like the sweet nectar of a Venus fly trap.

At the forefront of the church was the pulpit, with a lectern set up for ritual. A thick tome laid open. Beside it, a heavy-looking goblet of gold with bright gems sat, waiting for use. Just as Val approached the lectern, drawn by the strange book, she froze. A presence manifested behind her, causing a chill to run down her spine. Turning slowly, she tightened her grip on the bone knife, tucking it behind her leg.

Above the far end of the pews, a shape twisted and dropped from the ceiling like a large snake to the ground. Once on all fours, the lanky figure came to its feet, squaring off tattooed shoulders and raising a masked, vibrating head. Almost as tall as the Executioner, it wore a stained smock tucked into tall boots, and though wrinkles took the appearanceof lips at the front of its mask, the “mouth” didn’t move when it spoke.

“Hello, Valkyrie. Far from home, aren’t you?”

Val blanched. This thing knew who she was.

“Who the fuck are you?”

Placing a strange, gloved hand on its chest, the creature bowed deeply. The head tilted far to one side, still shuddering as it introduced itself a haunting, breathy voice.

“I am Valtiel.”

As soon as he said his name, the creature dropped down to all fours again, scuttling along the carpet to pop up in front of Valkyrie, making her jump at his quick movements. He loomed over her, still head and shoulders above Val, curling down to address her.

“I am God’s attendant and midwife.”

Backing until she bumped into the lectern, Val looked up at the lithe form leaning over her. His twitching head on an otherwise still body was difficult to watch for long.

“I’m sure that comes with amazing benefits. Do you get dental?” she asked. Despite being the Executioner’s fuck toy for months, this Valtiel unnerved her far more than her warden did. She put her empty hand on Valtiel’s chest, trying to push him away. He didn’t budge.

“Humor. Commendable that you still retain that part of you, seeing that you have been in the Executioner’s… _care_ for some time now.” Valtiel didn’t have a discernible face, but Val sensed the smug grin in his voice. He gave off the same kind of aura she was used to getting from other arrogant sycophants in the past.

“Hey, he’s not so bad. Few rounds of athletic sex now and then, all the cockroaches I can eat. He can summon some pretty big ones. Juicy.”

Valtiel chuckled. The sound made Val’s stomach twist. He brought a hand up and touched under her chin, further invading her space until she was squashed against the lectern.

“I’m glad to see he is ****enjoying**** my work.”

“Your what?”

Valtiel curled his spine, his head twitching still, until he nearly pressed his forehead to Val’s. His hand went around her throat, but after having the Executioner choke her out on the regular, Valtiel felt like no threat at all. It wasn’t until he moved his hand down to her breast, then over her stomach and further down that she began to feel afraid of him. She shuddered, but not in the way Pyramid Head could make her feel. This was… vile.

“My work. You see, you died down here, killed by the very creatures you try to buy loyalty from, with your little… treats.” He leaned into her body, putting his hands on the lectern behind her, boxing her in. At the side of his head, a snaking black appendage waggled in the air, twisting and curling about as he spoke. “Bringing you back to ****life**** was simple - making you _efficient_ was much more laborious.”

Valkyrie leaned away from him as far as she could go. In her fist, she gripped the bone knife behind her. She brought it around to try to stab his side, but Valtiel was just quicker. He snagged her wrist and turned her around, pulling her arm up behind her back. He shook the knife free from her hand and crushed it under his boot. Her attempt on his life did not seem to bother him in the least.

Facing the pulpit, he pulled her hair with his other hand, forcing her to look up at the stained glass window. The figure in the center looked back at Valkyrie, but the face had changed. No longer serene in expression, the maiden’s face distorted to one of agony, weeping bloody tears all the way down the glass.

“You see, had I kept your body the way it _was_ , he would have raped you once, torn you apart in seconds, then grow bored with your useless ****meat****.” Valtiel’s head came down beside Val’s ear. She felt the appendage on his head reach and snake under her chin, leaving a trail of wetness behind it.

“I made you _stronger_ ,” he whispered. His hand in her hair let go, coming around to slide down the front of her body. “Durable.” Val’s free hand curled around his wrist, trying to stop it from going further down. Long, gloved fingers pressed into her labia, pushing the silk material against her clit.

“Useful.”

Valkyrie shuddered in revulsion, her face heating up as her body reacted to his touch. Being rebuilt, as if her body were synthetic, _made_ to be fucking used - she hated it, hated this Valtiel immensely. She was tired of being exploited for other people’s agendas.

Steeling herself, she pushed back against Valtiel. He swayed into her movement, unperturbed by her escape attempt as he continued to gaze up at the stained glass. Through the silk, he curled his fingers farther between her legs, massaging her labia with callous indifference. He wasn’t trying to get her aroused - he just used his power to disgust her. He hummed tunelessly to himself while Valkyrie wriggled in his grip.

“What’s in it for you, then? I… ****shit**** …” Val swallowed. Another tremor rolled through her as he toyed with her idly, pressing on her clit and making her shake. Val wanted to puke.

“I don’t think you put me back together just to be nice.”

“You are correct.” Valtiel took both her hands and spun her around again, facing him. His hands came up to frame her face; she spit at him. The tongue from the side of his head snaked around, licking away the spittle on his mask before retracting again.

“Ew.”

Valtiel chuckled. “The thing about questions, child, is that no one is obligated to answer.” With a sudden jerk of his hands, he snapped her neck.

“Hey, honey.”

Valkyrie - no, she was Valerie now - sat up in a familiar bed. Looking around, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She was in Sanctuary. No, it was still Sanctuary _Hills_. The walls of her house were still pristine white, and whole. No patchwork metal sheeting, no curtains pilfered from Nuka World. Her bed had fresh linens on it, and the sun was shining.

Nate sat at the foot of their bed, his hand resting on her calf. He was alive, smiling at her as she sat up.

“How did I get here?” Val asked, gripping the sheets under herself. They felt soft and warm from her lying in them. Nate looked real enough, but… “Where am I?”

Nate gave her a puzzled, amused smile. “Where do you think you are?” He scooted further up the bed, beside her. He reached out with his left hand, cupping her cheek.

“You okay, beautiful?”

“Don’t call me that,” Val replied. She raised her own left hand, shaking as she touched him. He felt solid, and real.

Leaning closer, Nate nudged her nose with his.

“I just say what I mean, sweetie.”

Val swallowed. He was always calling her ‘beautiful,’ when she was anything but. He knew she was covered in scars, particularly the ones on her face from being beaten half to death with a wine bottle before it smashed open, leaving a curl of darkened tissue around her right eye. None of the other wives in Sanctuary Hills looked like her. They were all perfect little homemakers. Val wasn’t trained for domestic life. She knew how to shoot, how to use her body to get information, how to imitate others and lie.

There was ****one thing**** she simply couldn’t fake for Nate. Something he deserved from someone better.

“You don’t mean that.” She stroked his hand, feeling his wedding ring catch with hers. “I don’t know why you picked me. I’m not the kind of woman-”

“Shhh.” Nate leaned in, pressing his lips to hers. It felt like she had gone a century without a kiss, something she got to enjoy with Gage, but with Nate it still-

Nate’s tongue began to slip into her mouth as he pressed forward, leaning into the kiss.

Val tensed up and jerked back. “I can’t do this.”

“Honey? What’s wrong?”

Val looked at Nate, feeling guilt curl over in her stomach. He gazed back with such warmth, such unmerited love, that it brought tears to her eyes.

“I don’t-”

Val woke up.

From above, water dripped down from some unseen leak onto her forehead. Cold stone was under Val’s back. Pushing herself into a seated position, Val looked around the darkened chamber. She was alive, as much as that was worth, and still in Hell.

It did not take long to spot the Executioner. He sat at his altar, the pile of bones mounted under him into a crude box shape. He leaned forward, both hands on his Great Spear, turning it slowly so that the point drilled a hole through a skull at his feet.

“Um…”

The Executioner lifted his head, looking in her direction. The air felt charged with hostility. Had he caught her out? If so, what happened? She remembered finding a long hallway, the Mumblers running away, then-

“I’m sorry.”

In a flash, the Executioner was on his feet. The spear dragged behind him so hard as to make sparks as he darted to her, his hand encircling her throat. He lifted her high off the ground, squeezing her neck. She kicked weakly, trying to wedge her fingers under his to breathe.

Memories flooded back. The church, meeting God’s valet… Nate…

“Valt…Valtiel…” she choked out.

Dropping her to the ground, the Executioner jabbed his spear into the stone floor, the force of which sent small chips of granite skittering across the room. Resting one hand on the spear, he crouched beside Val as she coughed and sputtered, waiting for her to speak.

“I…” Val rubbed at her neck. “I found the church… Valtiel told me… I was dead.” She closed her eyes, the snap of her own spine ringing in her ears. “He said bringing me back was easy.”

Hunched beside his weapon, the Executioner looked like a giant gargoyle. Even though he had no visible features, she had figured out when he was staring at her and when not. What grunts or groans meant what. And what this tense silence meant. She had ten seconds to explain herself.

“I was exploring. I know I can’t leave _you_. Now that I met Valtiel, I don’t think I’ll be leaving again. He’s a prick.”

The Executioner continued to stare at her. His hand resting on the spear began to rotate it again, slowly drilling the floor.

“He told me he rebuilt me, made me just for you, so you can’t break me… very easily. Obviously, you can hurt me,” she added, scooting back from the Executioner’s reach.

Another memory popped up, making her blush with embarrassment.

“He fingered me.”

Fury still rolled across his aura, but now Val wasn’t certain if it was directed at her for leaving or Valtiel for handling her without his permission.

Rubbing her tender neck, Val swallowed and shook, trying to relieve herself of the memory of Valtiel’s hands all over her. The revulsion made her sick.

“I think he killed me again.”

The large hand not holding the spear slowly extended to her. Val hesitated before she reached out and settled her fingers in his. His thumb traced over the back of her hand, lingering on the gold band that sliced into her finger at the contact. Blood trickled into his palm.

“He had his hands on me,” she said, her shaking beginning to reside. Despite his violent nature, the Executioner was far more _honest_ with his brutality than Valtiel with his enigmatic speech and wandering touch. He pulled her closer, up against his chest. She wrapped her arms under his helmet, the sensation of her fear draining out as she leaned into him. She was forgiven, for now. It seemed Valtiel catching her had been quite the punishment already.

“I feel dirty.”

A thick arm curled under her back, scooping Val up as he stood. He tucked her against his chest, his grip loose enough that she could turn. Settling into the crook of his arm, her head came to rest on his shoulder.

“Thank you.”

Driving his spear into the floor, the Executioner pulled his blade from where he had left it: a pile of bodies, creatures he had torn apart and mangled in his rage at returning to his chamber and finding his charge gone. He had hunted for hours, snatching any lesser demon that crossed his path and goring it on the end of his spear. Those too large to die by his spear were ripped in half, their remains hanging from bent fencing and pikes all over his domain.

Cradling Valkyrie against his chest, he set about a new course, heading up the near endless steps out of his chamber. Mumblers skittered out of his path and into small holes. Nurses parted and crouched down, almost kneeling in deference to him. Their fear of him made no matter - he was the Executioner, they were lower life forms.

As they continued on, the stifling heat of the furnaces below turned into thick humidity. Industrial fans slowly turned in their cages, doing nothing more than cycle the wet air. Rusting grates became pipes of all sizes, poking out of the walls and back in again, weaving in and out of the floor. Water dripped from everywhere, giving the ground a permanent inch of it to wade through.

“Where are we going?” Valkyrie asked, lifting her head from his shoulder. In her stillness, he almost forgot that he was carrying her. Her question brought him back to why he had ventured to this particular place.

Setting her on her feet again, he shoved her forward, through a passage that opened up into a vast chamber. Pipes and tubing of all sizes snaked through. Hanging from some of the larger ones, cages swayed on long chains where water dripped onto the bodies of whatever was inside. The unfortunate creatures muttered and wept for a release from the slow torment.

Around the floor, some pipes had forced through the stone and dribbled their contents, adding to the endless wet. Some billowed with steam, contributing to the heavy atmosphere.

Guiding her towards one of the larger pipes, the floor grew cold around their feet. A grated, industrial drainage pipe jutted from the wall. Frost crawled around the grating like veins, spreading out from the pipe and vanishing again into shadow. The water flowing from it fell at the pace of rapids.

“I’m not going under that.”

Grabbing Val’s garment, he ripped the silk from her body, tossing it behind him. The flowing ice water carried it off until it got hooked on another pipe some distance away.

“You sure you want me cold, big guy? Might caused some _shrinkage_.”

Seizing her upper arm, he dragged her under the water.

“Holy _shit_ that’s cold!” she yelled, squirming in his grip. She floundered and gagged, overwhelmed by the frigid water running over her naked form. He held tight - he could have put her under boiling water instead.

“Let me go, Nate!” she shouted.

The name jarred him. His grip on Valkyrie faltered and he backed away from her. She scrambled out from under the water, stumbling away and hugging herself as she shivered violently, seated beyond his reach.

He barely noticed her getting away from him as he staggered back. Catching his weight with his sword, he doubled over, the agony in his mind crashing and breaking like dense ocean waves. Sorrow and rage flowed through him; he gripped his Great Knife with both hands. The only thing that kept him from dropping immediately was his waning force of will.

She could ****not**** _do this to him_. The despair of her dead husband was like poison, burning at his insides until he fell to his knees. The sword was so deeply shoved into the floor that it stayed put as he felt his grip loosening. He tipped backward, groped at the empty air in front of him, then collapsed heavily onto his side.

Val remained away from the Executioner, watching him fight gravity. Using Nate’s name was the only weapon she had against him, but seeing him flail and struggle like that - she still didn’t understand why it hurt the Executioner so badly, or why she felt terrible to use it. Perhaps it was the horrible wailing that accompanied his agony whenever it affected him.

Her own left hand throbbed painfully as her gold ring twisted and curled, the spines driving into the bone. She tried to massage out the feeling, but her eyes stayed on the Executioner.

Watching how he toppled over - that was new. Before, he had been able to shake off the feeling and was back on his feet in moments. Seeing him lying on the ground, his head twisted at a strange angle because of the great helm, Val wondered if she had managed to kill him this time. None of the screaming roaches appeared, either, adding to her fear that she had done him in for good. Even if it meant being free, he had been the only barrier between Val and more horrifying things in the dark. She had seen how the creatures of Hell responded to him, giving him a wide berth, bowing their heads and curling away, like they knelt to their king… or their tyrant.

Getting onto her feet but staying low, Valkyrie crept over, dragging her feet through the water. She reached a hand out, just able to touch the back of his leg when she heard something clamoring over the pipes above. Loud, metallic clatters echoed through the chamber as something crawled further down, barely catching the light as it weaved in and out of the dark.

Whenever it darted between shadows, Valkyrie spotted hints of its form: black leather, heavy steel plating, the rubbery patchwork of human and Synth skin - Kellogg.

Turning back to the Executioner, Val moved closer to his head. She picked up his arm - no pulse, of course, but touched the ring on her hand to his. For once, there was no shock nor sting of old memories. His large fingers curled slightly, but it did not appear to give him the waking jolt she wanted.

“C’mon, big guy. Up and at’em…” she said, pulling on his arm. His chest moved slowly with his labored breathing - he was still alive, but unable to act.

“Need you to do your King of the Monsters thing, okay? Hello?”

No response. The skittering drew closer.

“Now would be a good time.”

Pyramid Head seemed to be out cold.

“Fuck.”

Val had nothing to defend herself… except…

Her eyes drew to the sword. It was right where he left it, the gleaming metal calling out to her.

**_**Take it.** _ **

She could hear Kellogg drop into the water. The voices of him and his extra heads.

_“At least we still have the backup…”_

_“...still have…”_

_“...backup… we have…”_

Valkyrie moved, driven to the sword before she could process it. All she could remember was hating Kellogg, how he took Nate away. She didn’t even _love_ him, but he didn’t deserve to die, to have the last thing he saw being his son ripped from his hands as Kellogg killed him. To have a wife that lied to him… memories of Kellogg threatening her through Nick. Seeing his past, his own losses, making other people suffer like ****he**** suffered.

She had lost, too, and could have become like him.

Instead, she got revenge. Justice. Embodied the Valkyr, decided his fate back then.

She had her own to decide now.

_“You open a closet… it’s just a closet…”_

_“...never find the monster…”_

_“...’til it jumps out at you…”_

Kellogg was closing in.

Her hands gripped the hilt of the Great Knife. She pulled, feeling muscles scream at the strain of lifting it.

_“Haven’t you been paying attention?”_

_“I think we both know how this has to end.”_

_“So_ _,_ _you ready?”_

Momentum carried her body as she spun, the weight of the Knife doing more work by its heft alone. Just drawing it out gave it enough driving force to become a threat. As she turned to face Kellogg, she sheared off the same knife-arm that had stabbed her before.

The creature wailed and backed up, undeterred by the loss of a single limb. It had seven more - the ones Pyramid Head had managed to chop off were reattached or possibly regrown, including the poisonous, hooked tail.

Val didn’t have the luxury of time to analyze it.

The Great Knife in her grip should have been too much, shouldn’t even have moved from its spot, but it was there, in her hands. It felt lighter, as her hatred of Kellogg filled every fiber of her being with purpose: destroy him.

**_**Destroy. Protect what’s yours. Bring him to Judgement.** _ **

Valkyrie stared down the creature. It seemed to be smiling at her as they circled one another. It jabbed the hook towards Val, forcing her to bob and weave out of its way. The heft of the Great Knife was still a lot to hold, slowing her down considerably, but she would not give in. She’d go down fighting, if she had to.

 _“Pain… suffering… death is… only escape…”_ the heads chattered, in unison.

“You’re right,” Val replied. Her muscles burned as she swung the sword in front of her, cutting a silvery arc through the air.

Kellogg leaped back, perching on a brick wall, just out of reach. The knife struck piping, cutting a huge gap into it. Steam belched from the broken metal as she ripped the sword free.

_“So close…”_

_“...yet so far away…”_ he taunted, climbing around the chamber effortlessly.

Val turned, not wanting to lose sight of him in the twisting, rusted pipes. She felt fury boiling inside her, keeping her on her feet. Her eyes scanned the shadows, looking for the telltale glow of his eyes.

“Fuck you,” she hissed.

 _“God, you’re so persistent…”_ The voice seemed to come from right behind her.

Val spun, the Knife carrying her in almost a complete circle.

“FUCK. YOU!”

Something told her to turn around again, just as she was pulling out the knife from where the end hit a jutting section of bricks. It felt like a voice she should know, soft, sonorous, commanding. A woman’s voice.

**_**Behind.** _ **

Bringing the blade up and over her head, Val turned and slammed the Great Knife straight into Kellogg’s center head. The face in the middle froze in a shocked expression. The Synth pair of heads shrieked as the main one split like an over-ripe tato.

Bringing a foot up, she put it on Kellogg’s dead face, kicking off as she pulled the blade out again. The scorpion creature listed from side to side, the remaining heads fighting each other for control with Kellogg himself out of commission.

**_**Finish it.** _ **

Valkyrie swung the Knife in another overhead arc. This time, the momentum carried right through the body, sinking into the wet stone underneath as the creature split in two. The knife stuck out of the water and an angle, buried in the ground once again.

The two halves sparked and leaked oily blood, twitching and groping at the floor, dragging slowly apart as they died.

_“Shutting…”_

_“...down…”_

_“Kell-”_

_“...ogg-g-g-g…”_

_“...kept you…”_

_“...on-on-on-on…”_

_“...ice…”_

Collapsing to her knees, Val felt her hands burn with pain. She looked at her palms - they were raw to the point of bleeding from the Great Knife’s handle. Her body ached from the strain. Her heart pounded in her chest as she marveled at the feat she had just achieved. She should never have been able to pull the knife free, let alone wield it.

However, the exultation of the moment began to pass. Weariness settled quickly into her bones. If anything else attacked, she would be helpless to stop it.

A sloshing sound in the water made her inhale sharply, afraid to turn around to find another Kellogg monster waiting in the shadows. She held her breath and closed her eyes.

A solid hand clamped down on Val’s shoulder.

Looking up, the Executioner stood over her. His own frame seemed to sag, and he wavered on his feet. He gave her a single nod before leaving her side to collect his weapon from the mangled monstrosity.

“Was… was this a test?” asked Val, when her breath caught up enough that she could form words again. Her heart was still pounding, but relief began to slow its pace. He was okay.

The Executioner slung his sword to his shoulder and turned in her direction, his head tilting to one side. If it was a test, he did not seem to have anything to do with it. He peered upwards, scanning the pipes above for something.

Valkyrie slowly got to her feet. She was dripping wet, but the shivers overtaking her were not from the cold water he had shoved her into, nor the fear of dying to Kellogg’s claws. Something else troubled her - the way the Knife seemed to call to her. To enact justice. To bring Judgement.

Making her way to the Executioner’s side, she reached out, taking his free hand in both of hers. It seemed to startle him, and drew his attention away from the high ceiling.

“Can we go back, now?”

Unmoving, Pyramid Head slowly flexed his hand. Her fingers just reached over his broad palm enough to intertwine with his, and he did not pull away.

“I’m sorry. For leaving the room, not knowing what I was getting myself into, and for using… _his_ name against you. I just don’t know what you want from me.”

Turning away, the Executioner started to lead her back through the long halls. He held onto her hand the whole way back.

Valtiel’s excitement grew, watching the two disappearing from the chamber as they left. The Vessel was growing stronger now, and the Executioner fonder.

It seemed he really _could_ manufacture love. It just required a giant scorpion.

Once they had made the journey back to the Executioner’s room, Val loosened her grip on his hand. She stopped him before they got to the altar, resting her hands on his abdomen. She could feel it slowly move with his breathing, the muscles under her fingers flexing and relaxing. He seemed… calm.

“Big guy, I know you like it rough, but maybe we could slow things down, huh? You’re probably not back to full strength yet and I’m certainly not feeling like I could go six rounds with you even if you were.”

The Executioner remained where he was, unmoving.

Val pressed on. “It’ll still be fucking, just… take into account our aches and pains.”

He tilted his head to one side, regarding her proposal.

“It’ll last longer.”

He bowed down and hooked an arm under Val’s ass, giving her a hoist onto his shoulder. Approaching his altar, he stood his sword to one side - away, but close enough if he needed it.

Setting Val down, he released the belts of his long skirt, throwing it over the altar, which formed a low platform. Val raised an eyebrow at the courtesy. While still not a proper bed, the leather was softer and not a constant source of gore. Considering she had just been somewhat bathed, it was an unusually thoughtful touch.

“Oh, a gentleman, I see,” she teased, smiling up at him.

He huffed, slowly sinking down to one knee on the makeshift bed. He laid back, the angle of the platform as such as to actually support the great weight of his mask.

Valkyrie had seen him naked many times now. Nothing about his body shocked her anymore. His scars were deep and dark, belying other battles he had fought and won. Veins stood out from his powerful musculature. He rested one hand on his stomach, the other beckoning that Val join him. There was a beauty there, like watching a Deathclaw making its way over the horizon at sundown. Terrible power combined with a twisted vision of humanity.

 _Fascinating_.

Val sat beside him, took his hand - his left - and held it up to her lips. She glanced at his ring: the barbs faded, leaving it with a bumpy texture, not the sharp thorns they had both grown used to. She would question it later.

Kissing the back of his hand, she traced over each knuckle with her lips, under the thumb and to his calloused palm. A soft sigh came from beside her and Val smiled. She wondered if he had ever known tenderness before becoming the Executioner - or ever, after assuming the role, but something told her that no, he had not.

She started to suck on his fingertips when he seized her jaw with the one hand and sat up a little to grab her with the other. Val grinned as she fell against his chest, starting to kiss there instead.

“Eager, huh?”

She was met with an indignant huff, making her laugh.

Spreading out her palms, she ran her hands over his chest, kneading the stony muscle of his pecs. A sob of pleasure gasped out when she enacted a little revenge, pinching his nipples and giving them a tug. She slipped her hands as far up as she could reach before the mask cut off her access, raking her nails down the center of his chest. He draped one arm across the small of her back. His other hand kneaded her ass, and she had to admire his restraint. Normally, she would already be on her back, taking a pummeling from his cock at this point, but it seemed he still needed to recover. Or, he was being kind to her for a change. She did not think it was the latter.

Sitting up, Val straddled his waist. The edge of the mask raised to meet her, and she kissed the very point of it. An anguished keen rattled the metal as he suddenly grabbed at his helmet, straining to pull it off and failing.

“Hey, whoa, sh-sh-sh-sh… give me your tongue,” Val crooned, touching one of his hands to calm him down. As requested, the noodly appendage snaked out, curling around the end of the mask toward her lips.

“Good boy,” she said. Kissing just the tip of it first, Val licked at the long muscle. It curled around her tongue and pulled. She leaned forward, pulling in his tongue with hers. She felt it slide free, exploring her mouth and further back, reaching down her esophagus and back up again. She groaned, still a little weirded out by how deep it could go, knowing that this was as close as either of them could get to kissing.

Stroking and tugging gently, Val pulled the tongue out of her mouth, smiling when it resisted her grip, trying to get back in. When she refused him further access, it curled over her palms, tasting the drying blood there.

“I thought you’d like to put it elsewhere,” she said, guiding the squirming appendage lower. “But, if you just want to keep licking my wounds…”

Getting the hint, the Executioner yanked his tongue free from her hands, eagerly it sliding down the length of her torso to between her legs. Val blushed and smiled, rocking her hips, grinding her pussy against his abs.

“Yes, just there,” she breathed, curling her arms around the front of his mask. She leaned on it for support, content to let him tongue fuck her for a while. The tiredness of fighting Kellogg set in further, making her weak to resist anything the Executioner might pull, but he seemed to enjoy being right where he was. His tongue circled her clit before curling further, sliding in and out of her cunt, drawing soft moans out of Val.

Desiring a little more contact, she picked up his hands from where he held her in balance on his waist, bringing them up to her breasts. He rolled and kneaded them together, thumbs hooking into the rings and giving them light tugs. Val responded with pleas for more; his tongue moved to tease her clit again, circling it lazily and brushing over the ring.

This slowness began to feel like torture. Every time she neared climax, he backed off his ministrations, even as she tried to ride his abs for more friction. Prying his hands off her tits, Val scooted back, turning and rolling over to face his cock. Two could play at this game, and now he had full access to her ass.

The first thing he did was slap it, making her yelp. Looking over her shoulder, she heard him respond with his hoarse chuckle, the bastard. He massaged the red area he had just struck, scraping his blunt nails over the backs of her thighs. She shuddered, reaching under his heavy cock to massage his balls. He groaned back, spreading her pussy with the fingers of one hand while pushing in two with the other. His tongue played at her clit as he pinned her down with the weight of his mask. She was wonderfully, pleasantly _trapped_ and not looking to escape now.

Turning her attention to his cock, Val took her time in tracing the bulging veins running along its length with the tip of her tongue. His heavy breathing and a squeeze of her ass encouraged her to keep going. Drawing his cock further up, she sucked and kissed at the head. The fingertips of one hand glided along the underside, feeling the hot metal bars embedded there. She trembled as she anticipated feeling them inside her again. The other she tucked under his balls, pulling gently and massaging each heavy testicle one at a time.

Hearing more metallic groans of pleasure behind her, Val dropped her head further down. She had been able to take more and more of his length in her throat as they fucked over the months. Learning that Valtiel had given her physical improvements made her ever more bold.

Going slowly, she turned and adjusted her head, her eyes closed in concentration. Even as his fingers plunged in and out of her cunt, making her drench his chest in fluid, she kept going. She felt her jaw pop into its new hyper-extension, the gag instinct gone entirely as Val swallowed down his cock. Metal bars scraped at her palate and tears formed at her eyes. The air she breathed thinned out as his cock her stretched esophagus. She gulped as best she could, feeling the veins throb as her throat took in every inch, all the way down. One of his hands stroked her throat, approving how she took his cock completely. Coming back up, Val moved her tongue back and forth across the top, drawing out more strangled moans from him. Reaching the tip again, she gasped for air and licked her lips - then went right back for more. A hand fisted in her hair as she drove her mouth back down around his cock again. His fingers returned to her cunt, as well as his tongue, filling her at both ends. She rocked back against his hand, then shoved her mouth back down over his cock. Her mind fell into the ecstasy of the moment: She had beaten Kellogg by way of the Great Knife, triumphing over one of her personal demons. As she rode out the feelings of victory, using the Executioner as she pleased, she felt joy. In fucking herself on his fingers, sucking hard on his dick, feeling his hips rise to meet her mouth, she laid claim on him in her heart. She had the attention of one of the most powerful denizens of Hell, and was currently making him whine for more as he came down her throat. She trembled as the load pumped into her gut, swallowing it all down eagerly. She released his cock from her throat with a wet kiss, letting it flop against his stomach.

Under her, the Executioner panted, his hold on her loose.

Wriggling out from under the weight of his mask, Val slid off to his side, and turned around. Her breathing returned to normal, but she would need a moment to recover - she had never taken his _whole_ cock in her mouth before, and he had never been made to cum by fucking her face alone. His stamina was usually much stronger than that.

Tucking her head into the crook of his shoulder, Val laid a hand on his chest.

“You gonna be okay, big guy? You usually don’t lose it so quick.” It was a harmless tease. She had learned his refractory period could be _painfully_ short, as she had spent more than a few days locked in relentless sex until he got it all out of his system. The idea, however, of him recovering quickly and fucking her senseless again made her quiver excitedly at the idea.

His massive hand closed over the one on his chest, holding her for a moment longer while he recovered. It was flattering, really, to know she could wear out her Executioner.

 _Her_ Executioner.

That was what the feminine voice from before had told her. Protect what was hers. He was her captor, her warden, her Executioner.

He had never thought a human could carry the blade. Not someone so small, compared to him. She had used it, defended him while his body betrayed him, leaving him to lay in the water like a drowned corpse. She had killed the monster made from her fears, and he felt a shift in her spirit. She laid claim on him, and he was uncertain if he liked it. He was supposed to belong to God. He was an Executioner, an enforcer of God’s Will, dispensing Judgement on profligates and beasts alike. He was meant to batter her like any long-suffering apostate was expected to in his hands, but now he questioned his purpose.

Valkyrie sat up, murmuring softly. “You still in there, big guy?”

 _Big Guy._ The moniker he could not seem to shake from her, but it felt less annoying, the more she used it to address him. It coincided with his budding weakness, and he considered turning her over to one of his more ruthless brethren, but the idea of letting another put hands to her body - even the idea of Valtiel touching her again made jealousy roil in his missing heart. Yes, _jealousy_ , that was the name of the Sin tugging at the back of his mind. She belonged to him, and that was that. If she wanted to lay claim, it was her own folly. Executioners were not _claimed_ by their victims.

“Hello? Oh!” Val giggled as he picked her up from his side, setting her on his thighs. Once there, he picked up his spent cock, stroking it idly. She smiled down at him; the gesture was strange. Familiar, but not. It was not as insulting as when she had treated him to pity. Warmer, somehow. His empty chest felt tight.

“Ready for round two?” she asked, cupping her hand around his, following his long strokes until he let go, allowing her to continue on her own.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Settling his hands on her thighs again, he watched Valkyrie stroke him. Able to reach with the such massive hands, he rubbed her clit between his thumbs. She shivered again, and he could already feel the wetness of her cunt dribble onto his legs.

Valkyrie wanted him, more than his body, in ways he could not comprehend… or had forgotten how to understand. His Judgement of her seemed… less important, than it should… which would prolong his keeping of her.

A waggling of her hips in his hands brought back his attention. He had stopped massaging, and she took notice that his mind was elsewhere.

“We can stop, if you need to.”

A rough laugh punched up from his gut. Rolling over, he pinned her down against the altar. His cock landed against her belly with a wet slap. Looking her over, he sensed no fear, merely anticipation of his taking her again. He would _show_ _her_ that he was not ****weak**** , did not _need_ her pity nor kindness. Certainly not… her… her…

Before his mind could conjure words it did not understand, the Executioner lifted Valkyrie’s thighs, bending her back and spreading her cunt wide to him. Yes, this was a display he preferred - her will bent to his, her body twisted for his own amusement, built to withstand abuse so he could fuck her for hours - or _days_.

However, this time, he hesitated. Valkyrie held her legs back, patiently waiting to be brutally fucked into the altar’s surface like so many times before. She would cry and scream in the pleasure he would rip from her, bruise her body with his assault and leave her body throbbing and exhausted. And yet…

He ran his fingers over her labia, spreading them with a light touch, the gentleness making her gasp. He enjoyed that sound, too. She waited for him, begged him to continue with just the look in her eyes.

Sliding his cock over her cunt, he let the slow drag of his piercings build her want as he denied her the penetration she desired. It should have tortured them both, but the whimpers were saccharine and delicious as he made her wait. He drew out and built up the anticipation until she pleaded with him for more.

“Please, I’m gonna lose it if you don’t fuck me soon.”

 _Good._ He pressed a finger to her mouth. _Wait._

Valkyrie nodded, kissing his fingertip. Her face was flushed pink, her soul open and accepting of whatever he had planned next. He did not want to think on that part much longer. 

Rubbing the head of his cock against her wet cunt, he slicked himself up before driving in slowly. Val’s mouth dropped open in a gasp as she felt every inch guided in by his hand. She tried to arch up to meet him, but he pushed her back down, making her wait as he filled her up, stretching her out around his girth.

Raising up on his arms, he shifted his weight and pulled out again, her mewls of pleasure making him want to draw this out further, but he wasn’t certain he could do that to _himself,_ let alone make Val suffer another delayed release. His thrusts started to pick up the pace as he pushed all the way in, filling her to his balls and then back again. One of her hands blindly sought his as he fucked her, and he pinned it down, letting her fingers lace with his. The other rested on his mask, keeping his attention focused on her face, rather than just breaking her again with his cock.

Something tightened in his chest again as she squeezed her hand around his; her legs looped around his waist to keep him close. He slowed down his thrusts, sinking down to his elbows and covering her body with his. Turning his head to the side, he kept from crushing her skull by framing it with his arms, the mask pillowed by muscle. Her face was close to the grating, and never before had it felt so far away. He took her hand from his chest and held them both over her head, fingers intertwined. His thrusts had turned shallow, but racing to an orgasm slipped from his mind as the complete closeness overtook him.

Sweet words were whispered to him through the grating, Valkyrie’s breath stealing into his own. He damned himself for his position - in his delirious arousal, he wanted the mask off, to ****end**** his service to God if it meant that he could-- if _they_ \--

Arching his back, the Executioner let out a mournful wail as he came, burying his cock to the hilt inside Valkyrie. Seed dripped from around the edges of her cunt and ran onto his skirt under her. He remained bowed back until his arms felt like they might rip from their sockets if he stayed like that. He dropped heavily to his side, dragging Valkyrie with him so that his cock remained sheathed inside her. She pressed up against his chest, listening to his ragged breathing. Warmth blanketed them both as he cradled Val’s body. She groaned from pleasant aches, murmuring praise for taking his time and treating her so well.

The Executioner wrapped his arms tight around her, keeping her close.

Something was wrong.

He did not want to let her go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Valtiel is a dick, but fun to write.


	3. Lost My Self Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gage, his son Kid, Edward Deegan and Dogmeat are on a mission: Find out what happened to Val. They do find her, but something's not right.
> 
> They go to Amari's, to search her memories, and find out where she's been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part gets more gory-horror story on top of the monster-fuckery/erotica, so buckle up, folks.

Porter Gage feared the worst: Valkyrie was dead, and that they’d never find her body. Something had to have gotten to her - one of the new uglies that roamed the Commonwealth in the unforgiving fog. That was the only explanation for why no one had seen her. Not the Minutemen, not the Brotherhood patrols, not anyone in Goodneighbor or the chain of provisioners. It was like she had vanished clean off the Earth.

A dark part of Gage poked at the back of his mind: _She’s left you_ , it said, _Got sick of having an old man for a husband, sick of mothering his bastard, sick of it all…_

Surprisingly, it was Preston Garvey who set him straight.

“C’mon, you know that’s not Val. She’s got her problems, but she’d never abandon family. You’re part of that.”

That was why he kept going. He took Dogmeat and Kid and set out to talk to the last person who could have seen her: Jack Cabot. When he pointed Gage and Kid towards Parson’s Asylum, his worst fears seemed to be true. The surrounding Lynn Woods were known to house a few Deathclaws, and if any of them had decided Val looked like a good meal for their young, she couldn’t take them all on alone.

Val was a helluva shot, great at sneaking, ridiculously good at getting on someone’s good side, but she wasn’t invincible. One Deathclaw was hard enough - a nest was lethal to whole squads of fully-armored Brotherhood. A lone sniper fooling around Parson’s?

He had to hope that he was wrong, that his gut was just lying to him, but the longer they went with no trace, the harder it was to believe.

Edward Deegan took point on heading to Parson’s, having made the run often for Cabot. The old ghoul was tough as nails and broader than any feral they came across. He was good in a fight, even against these new monsters hiding in the mists. At least he’d get them to where they needed to be.

Dogmeat had turned out invaluable - without him able to track Val’s scent, they might have been going in the wrong direction. The relentless fog could grow thick and dark at times - night was becoming lethal for anyone to be out and about. Ferals grew bolder in the company of some of their new friends: some nicknamed Nurses, some Mumblers… the ones that had been the most disturbing were featureless, two-headed monstrosities that shrieked and flailed blindly, drawn towards noise or the the scent of humanity. Gage wasn’t sure which, but it didn’t matter. The more those things attacked people, the less likely Gage felt that Val had a chance to make it home.

If it wasn’t for the Minutemen and some weirdo genius named Tinker Tom rigging the major areas with sirens, more people would be getting caught in the dark. Night fell as a starless void much of the time, the moon barely making a glow even at its fullest, and that’s when the creatures were most likely to attack. The Castle broadcast warnings when the sun began to set. Settlements had been forced to build up fences like Raider camps - spikes and barbed wire to keep anything smaller than a Super Mutant at bay. Hell, even the Super Mutants were starting to turn towards the other factions for help. The smaller clutches that normally poked around the Commonwealth had been getting devastated too, and somehow they put it together that their “mutant superiority” no longer cut it.

Coming upon the old asylum, Gage felt his gut twist. Barely visible as a looming silhouette, the area surrounding was _crawling_ with Nurses, Ferals, and those “lying figures,” so named because at a glance, they looked like an injured person - staggering around in the mist, groaning miserably. It wasn’t until someone got into range that the real danger became present: They belched acid, not from their mouths, but a gaping wound in their chests. The sound of one attacking would call others to join. A whole flock of them had taken over Concord.

Gage did not like that they surrounded the building, lurking, waiting… _twitching_.

Deegan shouldered his rifle and hunkered down with Gage and Dogmeat. Kid had volunteered to scout around the other sides. For what it was worth, Gage was glad to have his son along. He was skinny enough to slip through tight spaces and quiet enough to slip past most of the nasty things without drawing their attention.

“You think your boy’s gonna be able to find us a way in? I’m about ready to start chucking grenades and playing the odds,” Deegan murmured. “They can’t chase us if they don’t have legs.”

“He’s got a talent for being ignored. It’s the one good thing Connor gave him, poor sonuva-”

“Hey!” a voice whispered behind them. Gage and Deegan both jumped out of their skin. Gage put a hand over his chest.

“Kid, don’t do this to your old man. I don’t know how much time I’ve got left and I don’t need you scarin-”

“I found a way in. There’s a place where the hedge is lower in the back. Courtyard, looks like. They’re lingering, but they ain’t movin’. Looks like they’re… waiting,” Kid whispered. He scratched at Dogmeat’s neck - he was just as nervous as the rest of them were. Those things outnumbered them, ten to one.

“Well, lead the way,” Deegan said, shoving on Kid’s shoulder to get him moving. “I don’t wanna get caught here when night falls.”

The interior of the old asylum was just as bad as its exterior, except quieter. Nothing was hissing or moaning in the shadows, but the place was dark. The only consistent noise was the sound of gnats hovering around bodies - monstrous ones. As Gage and Kid swept their flashlights around, they spotted the rotting carcasses among the rest of the mess. Some were shot clean between the eyes (or closest to, since not all of them even had faces), or had been exploded so violently that it was hard to tell what the rotting meat belonged to before.

Val had definitely been there, Gage was sure of it. He’d seen her take out plenty of things: ferals, bloodworms, Gunners… with the same kind of precision.

Question was: Where did she go from there?

Dogmeat picked up on a scent as he began sniffing around, barking and running off ahead. Kid gave chase, Gage and Deegan following right after. The last thing they needed was to get split up. Just because Val had taken care of the ones ahead of _her_ , it didn’t mean more hadn’t moved in behind them.

Just as they crossed the atrium separating the general visiting center from the asylum proper, Gage stopped, swinging his light towards the glass-less windows that once gave a view of the aging fountain. He thought he’d seen… _someone …_ tall, real skinny, with a mask covering their whole face, turning a valve? Shuddering and watching as they passed by. But he couldn’t have… Raiders were dumb, but they weren’t suicidally stupid to be caught alone… not _there_. Had to be a trick of the light.

“Pa, you good?” Kid asked, calling down from a scaffolding that led upstairs.

Deegan stopped to look back. “What is it?”

“Thought… thought I saw somethin’…” Gage said, looking back at the windows again.

Deegan came back down the ramp and joined Gage, scanning the area slowly. He took a few steps in the direction Gage had looked, but found nothing. He turned around again, returning to Gage’s side.

“What did you see?”

“Looked like a Raider… maybe. One wearin’ a sack mask… yanno? But… taller.”

“Who’d be stupid enough to come here by themselves?”

Gage glared at Deegan. “You forget why we’re here?”

“Look, I’m not saying your wife is an idiot, I’ve seen her work. But Raiders? Once Lorenzo was dead, they gave up on this place. Not worth it.” Deegan peered around again, just in case. “I think you’re getting paranoid, Gage. If you want, me and the kid can dig deeper, you hang back.”

Gage shoved past Deegan and started climbing the scaffolding after his son, the metal rattling with the stomp of his feet. Kid started to say something to him as he passed, but Gage was already pulling on the door and heading through.

“I hope we find her, Mr. D… he’s been real tore up since she’s been gone,” Kid said, watching the door slam shut behind Gage as Deegan caught up.

“Love does that to people, Kid.” Deegan settled his hand on the knob. “…This door is supposed to be locked,” he said. “Fuck, it’s old. Val probably broke the damn thing…” Glancing back to Kid, Deegan could see him worrying his bottom lip. Val had taken him in, no questions asked, despite being an adult by the time he found his father. He was just as scared to think that she could be gone so soon.

“For what it’s worth, I really hope we find her, too. Your step-mom’s a good woman. Even if she’s dead, finding the body might give you guys closure.” With that, Deegan stepped through after Porter.

Valkyrie’s head pounded. Her mouth felt sticky and dry. Every limb was sore - she could barely move. Trying to open her eyes, everything looked blurry. The ceiling looked low, way too low to be the … someone’s… her home…? A certain chamber. There was light, and the brightness of it made her eyes burn. How long had it been since she’d even seen the sun? Years? Decades? Time had lost all meaning. She tried to move, feeling her skin tug and pull - no, wait, she was clothed…

Where was she? Why did everything hurt?

“Pa! Mr. Deegan! Down here!” Kid yelled, following Dogmeat down a hall, past the bodies of more Nurses and Mumblers. Every door to the asylum’s basement was open, and the path clear. That didn’t mean they needed to alert anything that was in hiding.

“Kid, quiet down, ‘fore you wake the damn dead!” Gage hissed.

Kid was already lowering himself through a hole in the floor before he stopped, looking up at Gage.

“I wanna see her again, too, Pa. You ain’t the only one missin’ her,” he said, just before dropping down after Dogmeat. Gage just stared after, stunned.

“Shut you up fast,” Deegan chuckled. “Kid’s growing more of a spine the more he sticks with you. You ought to be proud.”

“I am…” Gage huffed, jumping down to follow his son.

Deegan smirked, taking up the rear.

As they got down to the old stone steps, Kid was at the bottom, staring at a bare section of brick. Gage came up beside him, inspecting the blank wall for… whatever reason had Kid’s attention. Turning, he looked at his son, waving his hand in front of Kid’s face. Kid blinked, tears rolling down his cheeks as he came out of his stupor.

“You awright?” Gage asked.

“Huh? Yeah, um…” Kid swallowed, looking back at the wall again. “I thought I saw… I thought there was a hole here, but…” He rubbed at his eyes. “I thought I heard my mom… Not Miss Val, but…” he sniffed.

Gage put a hand on Kid’s shoulder. “This whole place is getting to us. The sooner we find a hint of where Val’s been and leave, the better.”

Deegan came up beside the pair, lowering his gun.

“Electricity’s on down here,” he said, passing the pair of them to head into Jack’s lab.

Their path had led to the basement, quite possibly the worst area they could be in. Though Lorenzo was long dead, the machinery should have been _off_. ‘Should have.’ It was not. The Abremalin field was active, thrumming around Lorenzo’s chamber like he was still in there. Deegan scanned the lab, looking for signs of life. If not Val, whoever had started up the generator again.

Gage and Kid soon followed, with Dogmeat sniffing towards a side hallway. He barked and whined at the sealed door, scratching at it with his paws.

“Where’s that go?” Gage asked.

“Goes further in, to the center chamber. Shouldn’t be anyone in there… the Abremalin field’s not lethal to be around, but it hurts like hell if you get zapped.” Deegan said, shouldering his gun. He went to the main terminal, checking the controls and the security cams, since it all seemed to have woken up on its own. Security cams around the lab, both in and out, slowly blinked on and came into focus. The one that gave a view of the interior of Lorenzo’s room came on last.

The first image it showed was a flayed skull, like someone had taken a razor and cut the flesh off a man’s face, and it wept blood.

“Jesus Christ!” Deegan jumped back from the monitor at the sudden shock.

“What?” Gage asked, shoving into the space beside the old ghoul. He looked at the monitor and gasped. There was a body inside, and it was moving. He took off for the side hall, swearing up a blue streak as the doors refused to open to him.

“Deegan, get me in there! Val’s in there!”

Recovering himself, Deegan squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed at them. When he looked again, the horrifying sight was gone, replaced with a regular feed - and a body laying inside the room. This whole place was finally making him crack.

“I need a vacation,” Deegan grunted.

“Fine, fine, just get me in there!” Gage shouted, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He sprinted through one hall, nearly punching the next door that stood in his way. It sprang open as Deegan overrode the security, getting Gage into the part where the only thing keeping him from Val was the powerful field surrounding the room inside.

Kid jogged up behind, with Dogmeat taking up the rear.

Val laid in the center of Lorenzo’s room. Her hand came up to shield her eyes from the light. She was _alive_. Gage peered through the window at Val, anxiously waiting for Deegan to bring down the Abremalin field.

Deegan shook his head. “I don’t know how she got in there and I don’t know why the field’s on, but it’s all coming down. Then, I’m gonna recommend Jack crater this place, once and for all.” He flipped a few more switches and held his breath before hitting the last button on the field control.

 _“Field’s coming down. I hope she’s okay,”_ Deegan said, coming through the comm in the wall.

Gage felt his heart racing. Val was in there, she looked whole… he didn’t think about how she could have gotten herself trapped in there, or if someone might still be around, waiting to jump them, too. He just needed to see her again.

As soon as the field fell and the door opened, Gage was inside, falling to his knees to put his arms around Val. Their combat chest plates made a loud “clack” as he nearly jumped on top of her, picking Val up off the floor and holding her close. He wanted to throttle her, cuss her out for coming to this place alone - and obviously being in over her head. Someone had left her there, presumably to die. But, she was _alive_ , and he was getting her out. He could yell at her later. Maybe. When they weren’t in a creepy asylum basement.

Val groaned, her arms weakly coming up to hug him.

“Gage?” she said. “You didn’t give up…”

“No, baby, I didn’t…” he said, choking on his emotions.

“How long’s it been?” she murmured, slumping heavily against him. “How old are the kids?”

Gage drew back, holding Val out at arm’s length. She blinked wearily at him.

“Val, it’s been a month. I thought you were dead.”

“A month?” Val rolled over, trying to get to her feet, but her limbs had their own agendas. She flopped onto her belly, legs tangling in her overcoat. “It’s been years…” she muttered, pulling hair away from her face. Kid leaned over her, helping her sit up again.

“It’s okay, Miss Val, we gotcha…”

That was when it clicked for Gage, what seemed different: her hair was long, untied, and most telling: solid black again. Last he’d seen her, Val’s head had been partially shaved, and thanks to Mason’s ingenuity, bright blue. None of the color was there anymore, not even traces of when it had been lightened to accommodate the dye.

Gage sat back on his knees, watching his wife. Val rubbed at her face, still disoriented and weak. He got up, helping her stand, he and Kid each slinging an arm over their shoulders.

“Deegan, you think your boss can give her a once-over? I don’t think she’s doing so well,” Gage said. Uncertainty coiled tight in his chest. Val looked like Val, except for the hair thing. Sounded like her, dressed like her… but… decades of honed instinct had Gage looking at his wife with careful scrutiny.

“He’s not really that kind of doc-” Deegan’s words cut off as they helped Val out of the chamber. Glancing at the screen at the corner of his eye, he took notice of Val’s condition. Her head lolled to one side, brushing against Gage’s neck. When she moved, the security camera caught something unnatural in Val’s face.

Her eyes glowed white.

Getting Val out of the asylum took the better part of the day - with Gage and Kid carrying her, they moved at a snail’s pace. Worse, she kept trying to walk on her own, pulling away, backtracked a few feet, just to flop to the floor again. She complained of thirst, and though they supplied her with what water they had on them, she said she needed more. Her stomach rumbling hinted to Gage that her weakness must have come from dehydration and hunger. How long had she been down there? Had she just been unconscious the whole time?

“I wonder… if the Abremalin field did something to her,” Deegan said, helping Gage and Kid get Val onto a couch in the visitor’s side of the asylum. She laid there, trying to move but not having the strength to pick herself up.

“What do you mean?” Gage asked.

Deegan gestured for Gage to follow him, leaving Kid and the dog to watch Val while they talked some feet away.

“I think Jack will want to take a look at her, but I don’t think you’re gonna like it,” Deegan said, keeping his voice low. “I saw…”

“What?”

“In the security cam, when you fellas brought her out… she turned her head, and her eyes were white. Bright white.”

“Maybe they were rolled back-”

“ _No,_ Gage. Like mine.” Deegan took Gage’s flashlight he wore at his belt. Shining it near his face, his own eyes flashed in the dim room, like a wild animal. A lot of ghouls had developed some sort of lens in their mutation. It was how a lot of Ferals managed to ambush people in darkened tunnels and passages. They could see in the dark. For Deegan, it just meant one less thing to carry while on errands for Jack.

Gage frowned, glancing over to where Val lay. Kid had her hand in his, murmuring promises to get her home safe. Dogmeat whine, his head on her legs, wanting Val to be better.

“You think that field was turning her ghoul?” Gage asked, folding his arms over his chest. He had mused in the past that he wouldn’t exactly like to be one himself, but he didn’t consider the possibility of it hitting Val. She was pretty careful around radiation.

“If it does, I’m not leaving her,” he muttered, making that promise to himself there and then.

“That’s very romantic, but that’s not what I meant,” said Deegan. “Abremalin energy is a very specialized type… I don’t know all the technical terms for it, but it wasn’t made for restraining ghouls, nor is it particularly more radioactive than the normal shit in the Commonwealth. Jack built it to trap his father… and the alien artefact on his head.” Deegan lit up a cigarette, offering one to Gage. Gage passed, too focused on what Deegan was telling him.

“You tryin’ to say Val’s a Martian?”

Deegan snorted. “ _No,_ but what I am saying is that it _shouldn’t_ have affected her, yet that weakness isn’t normal-”

“She’s fine-”

“Porter.” Gage bristled at the use of his first name, but Deegan carried on. “You take a good look at that woman, and tell me something’s not ****wrong**** with her.”

Gage frowned. There was… _something_ amiss, but…

“Aliens would explain why we couldn’t find her,” Gage murmured. He rubbed the back of his head. This was all too much. Afraid Val was dead, finding her alive, only to have Deegan insisting something was _wrong_ with her. The worst part was, Gage had to agree with him. If not wrong, definitely not natural, not if what Deegan said about her eyes was true.

“Shit.” Deegan lifted his head. The sirens were going, indicating the rapid approach of nightfall. They weren’t going to get back to the Cabot house now. Not until morning. “We’d better-”

“Miss Val!” Kid exclaimed.

As the sirens began, Val sat up on the couch, eyes wide. She looked around the room, but not at anyone with her. She got to her feet, and though wobbly, made her way to the doors - the only barrier they had between themselves and the hordes of monsters outside.

Gage, Kid and Deegan all leaped to Val, trying to grab her. She shoved off their arms and hands, pushing through them to reach the doors. It was as if the lack of energy she’d had on the whole journey up had suddenly came back all at once, enabling her to not be overpowered by the three of them. She hit back with her elbow, cracking Deegan in the face. He recoiled, trying to recover.

“Why didn’t we barricade the door?!” Deegan snarled, eye socket turning purple.

“Didn’t think we’d be here, did we?” Gage yelled back, getting under Val’s arms and lifting her onto his shoulder. In an unexpected burst of dexterity, Val grabbed Gage’s waist and kicked her legs upwards. The momentum landed them both flat on their backs, with Val shaken free by the impact. She scrambled to her feet again, almost to the door when Kid - least able to use his strength but a lot faster on his own - held a shotgun to her face.

“I’m sorry, Miss Val, but if you open that door, we’re all dead. There’s a whole lotta nasty out there, and I ain’t fixed to become their dinner.”

Behind Valkyrie, Deegan helped Gage off the floor again, watching the showdown. They moved slowly, not wanting to make things worse by startling either of them. Kid pulling a gun on Val was some sort of ballsy, but the way Val _stared_ at Kid… she tilted her head, calculating.

“Do it.” Val pressed her forehead to the barrels. “Here.” She shoved forward, butting the gun back; Kid trembled. Moving too much, he could kill her.

“Take the shot,” she said.

Kid swallowed, his whole body tense. Val smirked.

The next few moments became a blur. Val palm-slapped the shotgun up. The quick movement had the gun going off, causing plaster to rain down from the damaged ceiling. Thrown off by the sudden movement, Kid was shoved away from the door, which Val tugged on with both hands, to Gage and Deegan trying to give chase, calling for her to stop, being a second too late as she pulled the old wooden doors wide open.

Pitch black night greeted them, quiet as the grave. The sirens had faded off, leaving only the sounds of rain. A light drizzle had started up while they were exploring, leaving the grounds wet, but still. The horde of monsters - the Nurses, Lying Figures, Ferals… they had all vanished.

Val stood in the doorway, scanning the dark.

“He’s not here,” she said.

“Who?” Gage asked. He crept up behind Val and placed a hand on her shoulder. As she turned around to meet his gaze, Gage felt his heart leap in his chest. What Deegan had said was true: Her eyes reflected the weak light from the visitor’s room behind him, gleaming white in the shadow of her face.

Val’s brow furrowed as she stared at Gage, looking lost and helpless.

“I don’t remember…”

And then she fainted into Gage’s arms.

“...all the basic tests show that she seems to be in perfect health, but yes, I will conduct a further examination to see if her physiology really does appear to have been changed.”

Valkyrie slowly opened her eyes. She was in a room, a familiar room. Clean. Neat.

Cabot House.

Val would recognize Jack Cabot’s nasally voice anywhere, and it was right outside the door. Sitting up, she learned that was a bad idea. The room swam around, too bright, smelling too much like Abraxo and wood polish.

“Oh, you’re awake. Jack said you’d probably be out for another three days.”

Val turned and focused her vision on the woman by the door.

“Emogene?”

The younger Cabot sibling looked up from the book she was reading, offering a wry smile. She turned a page and bookmarked it, getting up from her seat.

“Hope you don’t mind we put you in one of my nighties. You were utterly _filthy_ under your Vault suit. You can keep it, by the way.”

“Dirty?”

Emogene’s smile turned less resigned and more pitying as she took a seat beside Val. Her hair was still gray, but she was alive. Val thought they were supposed to be dead… or something… she couldn’t remember. Her head was throbbing.

“Here, Jack told me to give you this.” Emogene held up a syringe of Med-X. “I’m not going to force it on you, but it will help with the pain. I’ll go tell him you’re awake. Porter’s been absolutely _dreadful_ while you’ve been here.”

“Gage?” Val blinked slowly. She could recall seeing him again, being dragged from the Asylum basement… brawling with them to get to some… one… As she struggled to remember why she had fought with Gage, Kid and Deegan, Emogene left the room.

Gripping the Med-X with a shaking hand, she jammed the needle into her thigh before she thought too much about what had happened. Pieces of her memory were missing, or just seemed too… strange… to be real.

Fire. There had been fire. And metal. And so, so much blood. A blade… no… a _knife_.

Val’s shoulders went limp as the Med-X coursed through her veins, the chem relieving the pressure in her head. She slumped back on the mattress, covering her face with both hands.

A weight sinking next to her on the bed woke Val up again. Gage sat beside her, gazing at her in that sad, puppy-dog way he had.

“Porter…” Val smiled, reaching a hand out to him. He took it, kissing the backs of her raw knuckles before leaning down over her, placing another kiss on her forehead.

“Miss me?”

“You had me worried, darlin’. I thought somethin’ had finally gotten the better of you, and I just…”

Val pulled Gage into a kiss. At first, she had only meant it as a way to soothe that sad look off his face. However, she recalled the feeling of not being able to kiss anyone for a very long time, and quickly opened her mouth, pried into Gage’s and started sucking on his tongue. He groaned in response, trying to pull away.

“Mm, Val, we’re on someone’s-”

“So?” Val pulled him in again. She grabbed one of his hands and brought it to her breasts, making him grip and massage it. Reaching down, she grabbed his ass, trying to get him closer.

“Baby, I wanna, but-”

“But what? I thought you missed me.”

Gage grunted, turning his head as Val continued to kiss and nip all around his throat. She sucked a hickey into the side of his neck. He was losing the battle for control very quickly. Val could feel his erection against her thigh.

“I want you,” she breathed, tugging on his ear with her teeth.

At the door, a loudly cleared throat had Gage leaping off the bed so quick he landed on his ass.

Deegan raised a brow, peering down at Gage with a thorough lack of amusement.

“Jack would like to see you in his lab, Val. When you’re decent.” Giving a scowl to Gage, he added: “Don’t keep him waiting.”

With that, Deegan turned on his heels, slamming the door shut behind him.

“She started it!” Gage called after.

Val giggled from the bed. Rolling onto her side, she gestured for Gage to join her again. “Need me to take care of you, sweetie?” she teased. Her hand went to the hem of her nightgown, pulling it up past her panties. One hand moved down inside them, and she moaned softly.

Gage got to his feet and put a good distance between himself and Val. He blushed, mostly from being caught, but also, he really, _really_ wanted to give in. Fuck what the Cabots thought - but they _had_ helped him find her.

“They’re gonna be pissed if-”

“Who cares? I’m hungry.”

“So, we should go down-”

“You’re right.” Val slipped off the bed in front of Gage, onto her knees. She palmed at the tent in his jeans, grinning up at him. “I can make it quick.”

Gage couldn’t seem to stop her. When she met eyes with him, that silver flash seemed brighter, almost iridescent, and he felt compelled to just let her do what she wanted.

“Okay…” he said, resting one hand on the back of Val’s head.

“Both. I want you to fuck my face,” she said, pulling Gage’s cock free. She started sucking without waiting for Gage to respond. One of her hands pulled down the top of the nightie, revealing her tits. Gage dully noted that there were piercings in her nipples that he did not remember her having before, and a new scar between her breasts.

Gage’s brain felt fuzzy. He put both of his hands on Val’s head, pulling on her hair as he gripped tighter. He snapped his hips forward to drive his cock into her mouth without mercy. She groaned around him, one hand on her breast, the other finger-fucking herself. They had had plenty of sex in the past, but this was _different_. This was so much more, so urgent, so desperate and raw.

Val let him skull-fuck her without gagging; her tongue stroked the underside of his cock. She worked her throat like she meant to suck the soul right out of his body. It didn’t take long for Gage to cum, giving a small shout as he drove his cock into Val’s mouth, all the way to the balls. Val swallowed his seed without hesitation. In fact, she moaned louder, still sucking and lapping at his cock while she got herself off, leaving a wet spot on the carpet underneath. After her orgasm, she got to her feet and wriggled out of her panties, leaving them on the floor. She grabbed Gage’s jaw with one hand and popped his mouth open, forcing him to lick the wetness off the fingers she’d had in her cunt.

Gage obeyed, staring into his wife’s eyes. The glint was gone, but he still felt woozy, dazed… not in control.

“Good boy.” Val smiled at him and gave him another deep kiss when she thought him done. He could taste his semen on her tongue, mingling with the juice from her pussy. He shivered, wanting her to keep going.

When she was finished, she pushed him towards the bed. Gage fell on it, expecting Val to jump on top of him and fucking ruin Emogene’s sheets. Instead, she righted her gown and headed out the door, leaving Gage to clean himself up.

 _What the fuck was that?_ he thought as he came back to his senses right as Val was out of sight.

Down one floor, Gage found Val in the lab. She was seated on a stool, currently getting blood drawn for one of Jack’s tests. She kicked her feet, looking more like a kid at the doctor than the vixen who nearly pounced him in Emogene’s bedroom. Emogene lingered outside the door and leaned into Gage’s space.

“You’re cleaning my room before you leave, loverboy,” she said, patting his shoulder and leaving Gage to blush deep red. They had been heard.

Deegan gave him a death glare. Gage’s face was hot, but he didn’t say anything. What could he say? Val was fine, she just woke up _super horny?_ Or that he had felt completely powerless to do anything but give in to what she wanted? He’d be the next on that stool, getting his head examined.

“There, that should do it. Now, Edward tells me he noticed something about your eyes,” Jack said, filling a few sample bottles with Val’s blood. As Jack put a bandage on her arm and lifted his head to meet eyes with Val, Gage jumped.

“Wait, don’t-”

Jack paused, looking over at Gage. He slowly pulled the penlight from his pocket with a raised brow. Val didn’t seem have any affect on him. That made sense somehow; _Jack_ didn’t love her.

“Yes, Gage? What is it?” When Gage just dropped his hand and shook his head, Jack carried on with his exam. Touching her chin, he shined the light near them, making her wince.

“Ah, I see what you mean, Edward. Very much like a ghoul’s eyes.”

Val frowned. “What? Are they black? Bloodshot? Do I look like a zombie?”

“No, no, but Edward noted that you seem to have developed a similar lens that he and many other ghouls have. Feral and non-feral alike. You may find yourself capable of navigating in the dark now.”

Jack’s words made her frown. “So… I have night vision.”

Jack shrugged. “That’s not _quite_ how I’d phrase it, but, more or less, correct. It explains why you seem more sensitive to bright lights now. Your eyes will adjust, in time. Like wearing bifocals,” he said, pushing his own glasses further up his nose. “at worst, you may want to dig up a pair of old sunglasses to help get used to their sensitivity.”

Gage cleared his throat. The awkwardness of him being heard while Val blew him had passed, but he knew it wouldn’t be forgotten. Not with the look Deegan kept giving him.

“So, she can see in the dark, but she ain’t gone totally ghoul? There such a thing?”

Jack sat down near his terminal, typing in a few things before responding.

“Yes and no. Ghoulification can take years to take effect, unless it’s helped along by consistent radiation exposure. Some of the older ghouls, ones that lived pre-war, claim that they didn’t even realize something was changed until their skin started regenerating after falling off. Those ones were very fortunate. Many people who survived the initial radiation poisoning still suffered long, painful deaths from infection.” Jack turned around in his chair, looking towards Edward. “ _I_ am fortunate that it did not take Edward from me,” he added, quieter.

Val rolled her eyes. “Yes, yes, we all know about your ‘secret love’ of Eddie. Just tell me - am I good? Like, can I leave?”

“Well, of course, once you feel back to yourself, I would encourage you to head home, but really, I’d like to examine-” Jack began, but Val slipped off the stool.

“Great. Let’s get going.”

Gage grabbed her by the arms and pushed her back onto her seat. Val protested, slapping at his hands.

“I’m not taking you home ‘til I know what’s up. How’d you get inside that Abram… Arbum… that electrical field? Where’ve you been this whole time, if not there? Why did you try to kill us with a monster horde?” Gage demanded, frustration rising. “And… you know… upstairs.”

Val quieted down, having the good sense to at least look abashed for what she’d done.

“I dunno… I just…” Val covered her stomach, a worried look crossing her face. “I feel… empty. Like, hungrier than hungry.” She put one hand on her cheek. “Something’s wrong with me.”

“No shit,” Gage agreed. “Baby, I just wanna make sure you’re _good_. That you’re not gonna go off and do some other fool thing to get yourself killed. For real.”

Val’s eyes started to water. She rubbed at her neck, bottom lip trembling.

“Please, help me…” Val said. She looked up at Gage and held out her arms.

Gage sighed and put his arms around her, rubbing her back. He was scared, she was scared… something was definitely ****up**** with her, but giving Val grief wasn’t going to help figure out what.

“I will, darlin’, I will. But you gotta ****let**** us help you, you know that.”

Val nodded, sniffling into his chest. “I do.” She looked up at Gage - he held his breath, but this time that same ‘fuzzy’ feeling didn’t hit him like it did upstairs. Maybe it was just an overwhelming sense of euphoria at having his wife back and alive. He stroked the back of his hand over her scarred cheek, brushing the tears away from her gleaming eyes.

The silvery reflection would take getting used to on _his_ part as well.

“Well, now that that’s settled, I will examine these samples and see if anything looks unusual. If you are becoming a ghoul, your blood cells will give us a clue as to what to do next,” Jack said, getting to his feet. “Perhaps you should get dressed. My Mr. Handy will make you something to eat, if you’re hungry.”

Val looked down at herself, as if just noticing she was tramping around in a nightie - and no underwear.

She paused, running her fingers over the scar in the center of her chest. Gage looked as well, wanting to see it better. The mark was red - not pale like her other scars, but like blood trapped just under the surface. It looked like a stretched out heart-shape, with a line leading down like a blood drop, frozen into her skin.

Val touched it, smiling wryly. “You always said I’m a ‘bleeding heart,’ Gage. Looks like it’s true.”

A few days later, Val, Gage, Kid and Dogmeat were in Goodneighbor to see Dr. Amari. Jack’s tests had proven inconclusive, except for one thing:

_“You should be dead.”_

_“What? Why?”_

_Jack sat at his terminal desk, bridging his fingers together as he tried to think of a way to simplify his answer._

_“Though you have a heartbeat, what flows through your veins is not blood. It’s… like a serum. A replacement. Your pulse rate is normal, there’s plenty of oxygen, but… the blood itself… Could you possibly have been replaced?”_

_Val frowned. “I don’t know what the Institute might have done while I was there, but Synths can’t give birth. I have.”_

_Jack nodded, still looking uncertain. “Perhaps, but your son, Shaun, he is a child-prototype, yes? Perhaps you could have been replaced as a trial version of a Gen 3 that could-”_

_“No. Gen 3s were virtually identical to humans in every way but one. How they were made - they couldn’t reproduce. I’m not a Synth. Shaun wouldn’t do that to me.”_

_“Wouldn’t he?” Jack stood, reaching out and placing a hand on Val’s arm. “Miss Valkyrie, please, don’t be upset. I think you should see Dr. Amari. She may be able to scan your brainwaves and tell us more. In the meanwhile, I will continue studying the genetic samples I’ve collected.”_

_Val rubbed at her face. Maybe Synth replacement was on the table after all, but it didn’t explain other things. The reflective lenses. Her memory loss. Why she wasn’t identical to how she looked a month ago._

_“Fine. But… if I am a Synth, I’m not stopping my job. There’s still a lot going on we don’t understand.”_

_Jack nodded, patting her hand in sympathy. “Of course. I would expect even a clone of you to carry out your job as General. Good luck out there.”_

Val looked up at the glowing sign for the Memory Den. She had only visited a few times for their actual services, and hated every time.

“This is gonna suck.” Val took a deep breath. “I don’t want to do this.”

“Val…” Gage sighed. “You know you have to.”

“I know. I’m just not sure I’m gonna like what they find.”

Getting here had been hard enough. Aside from Val protesting getting her head checked by Amari, more of the monsters that wandered through the fog had made the trek, short as it should have been, a dangerous one. They really seemed to enjoy the many hiding places a shattered city gave them, especially the Lying Figures.

Hancock had been perfectly accommodating when they arrived, at least. Everyone had been on edge when news spread about Valkyrie going missing - the monster attacks hadn’t helped any. Security had doubled up, every shift switching like clockwork. Were it not for the Mayor favoring Val, they weren’t sure the Watch would have let them in.

The Neighborhood Watch at the doors before the Memory Den eyed the four of them warily; Deegan had stayed behind at Cabot House, naturally, leaving Val and Gage with Kid and Dogmeat to make the journey across Boston.

“Kid, why don’t you take the dog over to Daisy? She usually has treats for him,” Val suggested. She didn’t want him watching her go under - they had no idea what they’d find, and Kid looked nervous enough.

Kid nodded, quiet since they’d arrived. After whatever he had seen in the Parson’s basement, Kid had been jumping at shadows. Daisy would take one look at him and sit him down to dinner, no arguments heard. She did the same thing to MacCready, once.

“Yeah, uh… c’mon, boy, let’s go see Daisy.” Kid patted Dogmeat’s back, getting the dog to follow.

That left Val and Gage. And Hancock, who sauntered up beside them.

“Don’t be afraid, sunshine. You got this.”

Val took a deep breath. “Yeah. Thanks.” She reached out and squeezed his hand, and together, the three of them made their way inside.

In Dr. Amari’s lab, Val leaned back in the memory lounger, nervously watching her reflection in the glass dome. Hancock leaned back on Amari’s couch while Gage stood, pacing as Amari got the equipment prepared to access Val’s mind.

“This isn’t going to hurt, right?” Val heard him ask.

“Of course not. She has been through this before. Physically, she should be well. My fear is that whatever she has blocked from her conscious mind could cause severe emotional distress. Are you prepared to help her through that?” Amari asked, putting in a specialized holotape to record the memories they were about to access.

“I am,” said Gage, coming to a stop beside the lounger.

“Me too.” Gage looked over, where Hancock had spoken. He got up from the couch, crossing the room towards the front of the lounger, continuing, “I know you and I don’t always get along, but whatever’s going on, I don’t know that you can handle by yourself.”

“I can do just-”

“No, Gage, listen… it’s not just Val. It’s this whole fucking _nightmare_ that’s going on outside. If she cracks from pressure, you’re gonna need help putting her back together. Somethin’ goes wrong, you’ve got a lot of people at your backs, not just me. But, I am gonna be there for her. For both of you.”

Gage sighed and rubbed at his face. “Fine, fine. Thanks.” He turned toward the lounger, putting his hand on the glass. Val reached up, pressing her hand to where Gage’s was from the inside.

“You boys behave while I’m in there, okay? I don’t mind if you make out, just keep it to a dry hump.” Val grinned at Gage; he laughed, the nervous look on his face faltering.

Hancock winked at her. “No promises, dollface. See you on the other side.”

Valkyrie closed her eyes and settled in, gripping the arms of the seat with shaking hands. Amari counted down the seconds until the lounger had tapped in, speaking through a microphone so she could continue to guide Val through the memories.

“Accessing core memories. Conscious, recent memories at the top…” Amari’s voice faded off as she turned from the microphone. “Really, Mr. Gage? A broom closet?”

Val chuckled, starting to relax. She couldn’t hear Gage’s reply, but hearing anyone refer to him as _Mister_ was funny enough. The memory had been another from Cabot House, where Val had dragged him into said broom closet for a quick fuck on top of an old steamer trunk.

Amari’s voice was weary as she continued on. “Accessing subconscious memory data. Interesting… the neural pathways do not seem to be _damaged_ , but they appear… blocked. Are you fighting me, Miss Valkyrie?”

“No…” Val huffed, trying to relax herself and not sabotage Amari’s work. A conscious repression in the memory lounger wasn’t deadly, but it could get painful.

“This is… unusual…” Val heard Amari say. Gage’s voice came in closer to the microphone.

“What is it, doc?”

“It must be a mistake. I have the correlating data from when Miss Valkyrie and Mr. Valentine were last in my loungers. Accounting for the time between then and now, there should only be a small amount of data increase, what would amount to approximately three to four years of time.”

Gage asked, “So, how much data _is_ there?”

Amari’s voice came out in a low murmur. “There is enough data spanning _over ten years_. It is as if her body were in stasis, but her mind kept going.”

“Like dreams?”

“No. Dreams do not expand the data in this manner. They are not stored in the same cortices as lived memory. Essentially, they are forgotten. This is the equivalent to her having _experienced_ that time. I don’t understand this discrepancy.”

Val’s hands tightened on the lounger arms. While Amari and Gage conversed about the data inconsistency, Val kept going. Without Amari guiding her, she crossed through her own neural paths, drawn towards a memory.

“Wait, she’s still moving,” she heard Amari say.

“The hell is that?” Gage asked.

Val’s memory was of a dark place. A chamber, littered with bones and gore came up on the screen. The video was of Val’s perspective, her walking through this chamber toward a figure. A tall, powerful figure, appearing like a man, but far larger than Val that she approached. He had no shirt, wicked-looking scars criss-crossing his torso. Dirt, or oil perhaps, blended with the blood that stained his grayish skin and grotesque musculature, running down the front of a long, leathery wrap he wore at his waist. They could not see his face at all, obscured by shadow that seemed to just cut him off at the neck.

In the image, the large man reached out with his bloody hands to Val, stooping into view briefly as he picked her up. The best they made out was a shoulder with muscles like carved rock as he placed her on top of something. There was a hint of light, giving them a shadowy view of his silhouette as the orange glow of fire illuminated him from behind. As he leaned in closer toward Val, the image grew clearer.

Instead of a head, all they saw was a large mask, made of rusted metal pipe and grating. Val’s hands came into view, stroking along the strange pyramid-shape. She inhaled sharply as she cut herself on the mask’s edge. A long appendage snaked out from under the mask and licked at the wound in her palm. After a brief treatment of her injury, Val’s hand moved down, smearing blood down her naked body. The tongue followed after, eagerly cleaning up the trail she made down her torso.

 _“Good boy…”_ Val breathed, in the video. She laid back, parting her legs. The creature’s tongue disappeared from view, but by Val’s moans, it was obvious as to _where_.

“I don’t need to see this,” Val, in the real world, could hear Gage say. His voice was choked, and guilt about what had transpired made her cut it off there, turning away from the pathway to look for something else.

“Was that a Super Mutant? I have never seen a human that big before,” Amari said. “I’m sorry. I just… whoever that was, they were very… large.”

“Just find something else, something to explain what the hell’s wrong with her!” Gage barked. Val’s pulse rate picked up as she moved forward. She wrested control of the recovery from Amari, passing scene after scene like the one they had just encountered. All of them featuring the same monstrous figure in some way. From destroying monsters like the ones haunting the Commonwealth, to more savage, sexual acts with Val, she passed them all until she stopped at one.

The image on screen looked like the interior of a church, floating in the mists of her mind. Val turned, looking at a figure at the end of the pews, someone different than the giant she had been captive of - if she were captive at all. The creature was tall, humanoid in shape, wearing a filthy smock. Its head vibrated, making the image capture result in just a blur… until it got right into Val’s face, filling the screen with its featureless, masked head.

“That’s him,” Gage said.

“That is who?” asked Amari. The video carried on, words from the figure indistinct as to sound like deep growls and hissing. Val seemed to be defying whatever it was, being thrown around to stare at a stained glass window of a woman in a red dress, weeping bloody tears.

“When we went to check out Parson’s, I had this feeling… somethin’ was _watching_ us. I thought it was just my mind playin’ with me in that moment, but… that’s him. It. Whatever.” Gage’s voice trailed away, Val unable to hear what else he said.

“Whatever it is, she is clearly afraid. Her pulse rate is spiking, and her brainwaves show considerable distress.” Amari paused. “Yes, redirecting to another memory… now.”

Val flinched, her whole body shaking. She tried to focus on something else, but the figure in the cloth mask appeared again, this time in the same place as they had begun: the chamber of the masked figure.

The thin creature appeared in Val’s face again, this time, she fought it harder, pushing at its head and arms. It seemed to have its arms around her waist, lifting her up.

_“Let me go, you creepy fuck! Ow!”_

Val, in the memory, turned to look for help. The beast that had been with her in other memories was there, but he was restrained. Another monster, just as big but wearing a full apron of black leather and plates of steel on his arms held him back. Razor wire encircled the restrained one, growing out of the floor at his feet. He struggled and strained, reaching out towards Val, cutting and slicing his skin as he fought to break free.  
 _“No! Don’t hurt him! PH! Let me go! Kellogg, stop!”_

As the memory concluded, a third of the iron-masked creatures circled the one trying to break free, a long spear in its hands. It jabbed the blunt end into the ground, holding it in place with a booted foot. It adjusted the spear until the pike pointed under the helmet of the first masked beast. The one in black shoved the one called ‘PH’ toward the spear, pulling back the great helm to expose its throat, but the image went dark at that point.

Val shook in the lounger, her body going rigid. Sweat broke out on her skin, and tears fell from her eyes. Amari stopped the memory recovery, pulling the emergency switch.

“She’s having a seizure!”

All three encircled the lounger, checking on Val’s vital signs. Amari felt her pulse and checked her eyes - they were dilated, and the silver lens inside reflected Amari’s light back like a mirror. Her body went limp as they sat her up, moving her towards the couch.

Hancock ran upstairs, citing that he was going to get Bethany, one of the merchant doctors who had taken refuge in Goodneighbor. Being a ghoul, Goodneighbor was one of the few places she had to turn, but her age and experience made her an invaluable asset in town.

Gage held Val’s hand while Amari made sure she was going to be all right. The seizure passed while she was out of the lounger, the machine no longer stirring those memories.

“What the hell were we looking at, Doc?” Gage asked. He moved to sit beside Val, holding her upright with one arm around her shoulders.

“Those things weren’t human. Couldn’t be,” he said.

Amari shook her head. “I do not know, Mr. Gage. Whatever she experienced, wherever she was, may remain a mystery to us now. Those memories were very painful to her, and I would not want to risk putting her back in the lounger so soon.”

“But… ten years? You sure?”

Amari stood up. She was not the proper type of medical expert help to Val, but she knew neuroscience.

“I cannot be completely certain, as there is always room for doubt, but it seems to be the case. There was a lot of time there, many… memories… containing that figure. What he is or isn’t, I cannot say, but I can tell one thing. Whatever he… _it_ is or ****was**** … it was trying to protect her.” Amari pulled over her desk chair, a troubled look on her face.

“What else?” Gage asked.

“The name… Kellogg. Conrad Kellogg is dead.”

Gage nodded. Val’s head was against his shoulder, and he rubbed at her arm.

“I know that.” A sick feeling entered the pit of Gage’s stomach. He had known something was wrong, but this? Men with pyramid heads? A creature that slithered on its belly like that? Kellogg?  
“Val… where have you been?”

That night, Val couldn’t sleep. Not after having been unconscious for days already. The past that had been brought up in the Memory Den bothered her. Not the sexual aspects - they were violent, but perhaps explained her behavior as of late. There were things missing, however: important details, specifically those last moments with the monstrous “PH” and his apparent death.

She needed to know who the person in the sack-mask was, what he was doing there, why that was the last memory before waking up in Parson’s.

Slipping out of the room she and Gage shared at Hotel Rexford, Val trotted across Scollay Square to the Memory Den. It was late enough, but there was someone else up, someone who kept a night shift broadcast of his favorite, pre-war radio serial: Kent Connolly.

The Den interior was dark, Amari and Irma having gone to bed. Technically, the place was closed for business, but with the new situation the Commonwealth found itself in, the Den kept one lounger open for those like Val - those who couldn’t sleep, troubled by what was going on around them, sometimes preferred a comforting past to a disturbing present.

“Oh, hey Shroud,” Kent said, looking up from his comic book while another classic episode of the Silver Shroud played. “Out f-for a walk, or patrolling the streets of Goodneighbor, looking f-for bad guys to take down?”

Val gave him a half-hearted smile, taking a seat on Kent’s couch.

“I need to use the memory lounger, Kent. I’ve got caps.”

“N-no can do, Shroud. Amari told me about what happened downstairs. You had a seizure, and I’m n-not gonna be able to help you if it happens again.”

Val covered her face. “Fuck… Can I use your ham radio, then?”

“S-sure, but why?”

“I’m gonna call in a favor. He’ll probably be relieved to hear that I’m back, too.”

“Who’s g-gonna be up this late ‘sides you and me?”

“Nick Valentine.”

_“Nick Valentine? Come in, Nick…”_

Valentine nearly fell out of his desk chair when he heard his radio flare on behind him. He had been poring over a map of the Commonwealth, marking locations of people who had gone missing since the area’s latest monster problem. The crackle and pop of the radio coming on jarred him out of his thoughts as he tried to track some sort of pattern with the various places people had disappeared from. Hearing a familiar voice on the radio made him turn away from it all, scrambling to grab the receiver.

“Valentine here. Is that you, Val?”

_“Yes it is. I need your help.”_

“You don’t know how glad I am to hear your voice again, kid. Where are you?”

_“I’m in Goodneighbor. I can tell you more details when you get here, but I’m gonna need a favor from you, too.”_

“Whatever you need, I’m there. I can head out at first light.”

_“Good. Always knew I could count on you, old man.”_

“Val…” Nick paused. Going over the specifics on radio wasn’t a great idea, but he had to know. “Where’ve you been the last month?”

_“That’s what I need you for, Nick. I need you to take me down memory lane again…”_

“Absolutely not. I will not hook you up again so soon, Miss Valkyrie. What if the next seizure you have is grand mal? We do not have the means to care for you if it becomes life-threatening,” Amari said, her arms folded over her chest.

Gage was on Amari’s side. Watching Val fuck a monster was one thing - that, he came to terms with. Val did what she needed to survive. But she was talking about hooking her head up to that damn toaster detective - she could cook her brains in there.

“I know you wanna find out more, darlin’, but-”

“Don’t you ‘darlin’ me, Porter Gage. I _need_ to do this,” Val snapped.

Nick looked between the three of them, holding his hands up.

“First and foremost, we need to even assess if it’s possible to link our brains again. We had a piece of Kellogg between us to act like a filter. This is complete access we’re talking about,” Nick said. “And if we do hook up, it sounds like _I’m_ gonna be the one seeing _you_ in some compromising positions.”

Val flushed pink, but shook her head. “I need to do this. The longer I go without knowing, the more it’s gonna eat at me.”

Gage sighed. “Is it possible, doc? Can they be linked?”

Amari threw up her hands. “I suppose that it still is, given that you two have shared a neural load before. But, I am taking _no_ responsibility if her brains are cooked in her skull. I have warned you that another use so soon will be dangerous. What happens from here on out is entirely on you both, understood?”

Val nodded, rubbing her hands together. “If I can just find out who that guy was… not ‘PH,’ but the one that grabbed me. The guy in the hood. I think… I think I know his name, but… it wants to elude me. Like… like someone tried to reset my mind. Then tossed me in a garbage heap.”

Nick rolled his eyes and took off his hat. “You don’t need to be so ham-fisted with your metaphors. I get it. I’ve been there, you think - since I got my memories back from DiMA - that I can help you recover yours. You _do_ remember which of us is the Synth, right?”

“Heh, it might be both of us, for all I know…” Val sighed. “I just think having you there will keep me grounded.”

Grabbing Amari’s desk chair, Nick slid it closer to the lounger they would be using and took a seat.

“Just don’t make me regret this. If I feel you going too far, I’m pulling the plug,” he said. “I’m gonna be the tour guide, right?”

Valkyrie leaned over Nick and gave him a firm hug. “Thank you, Nick.”

“Just don’t die on me, kid. We just got you back.”

“And we need you _,”_ Gage added, quietly. He took a stance next to Amari, wanting to watch this time, regardless of what they might find.

Amari set up Nick and Val’s tandem memories again, linking the two over one network. Valkyrie could not see Nick, but felt him in her mind, like someone had her by the hand, guiding her through the dark.

 _“Accessing last memory before you woke up in Parson’s,”_ said Amari, coming through clearly on the lounger’s speakers. _“It seems you are correct… there was more there than you immediately recalled…”_

In her mind, Val felt herself sitting on something - a pile of bones, arranged as a seat in the middle of a dark chamber. Near her feet, a scarred, vicious-looking dog sat, looking up at her expectantly. It reared back on its haunches and lifted its forepaws; Val tossed it a piece of meat she had in her hands.

_“Good boy! Now, speak!”_

The skinless hound barked, the voice sounding like the groaning of tortured men. Val tossed it another piece, making it do another trick before the hound turned tail, yelping and barreling from the chamber.

Val looked around, trying to find why the Groaner had abandoned her like that, when the tall, hooded figure dropped down from the ceiling.

_“Valtiel… what do you want?”_

_“It’s time, child…”_ With Valkyrie focusing on the words, they no longer came out sounding like inhuman snarling, but actual language. The figure, Valtiel, leaned closer, putting a hand on Val’s belly. She immediately pushed him off, to his mouth-less laughter.

_“The fuck are you talking about?”_

_“You asked me what it was I got from your life… And now I am answering.”_

Behind Valtiel, a wall of screaming roaches flooded into the room. Standing in the middle of them was the masked giant Val had referred to as “PH.” He stalked forward, the scrape of metal following as he loomed closer to where Val was trapped.

_“Ah, the Executioner. Say your goodbyes.”_

_“Goodbyes?”_ Val echoed.

Nick felt Valkyrie’s heart racing. He reached out to reassure her, the fear and anger that came from her made him feel like he sat at the edge of a wildfire. Whoever this Valtiel was, Val _hated_ him. Possibly more than she hated Kellogg. He tried to give her the feeling of his company, that what she saw was only a memory, that she was safe and he was with her, but the hatred… the pure heat of her anger at this Valtiel made it hard to tell if she got the message.

_“Yes, you’re going home… I’ve decided you have served your sentence. You get to leave Hell.”_

_“I don’t understand…”_

From the sides of PH, the two others - Kellogg and the unnamed monster - appeared quickly and grabbed PH’s arms. The weapon in his hands was ripped free by Valtiel, thrown across the room. The razor wire started encircling PH’s legs from the floor, as they had already seen. It tore through his skirt and sliced into muscle and tendons, leaving his legs a bloody mess. He yanked one arm free from Kellogg, reaching out to Val. Kellogg snared him again, yanking PH’s arms up into a lock. The other “Executioner” turned away while Kellogg held PH captive.

Valtiel chuckled. _“You said you wanted your token back, and now you’ve had it… but you failed me, Executioner. You did not pass Judgement. You kept her all for yourself.”_ Valtiel’s voice dripped with malice. _“How very selfish… unbecoming of one of God’s Weapons…”_

Val’s heart rate spiked again. Nick reached out with his mind again, feeling like he’d been thrown back by a grenade as the scene played on without him.

_“I’m taking her back to her world. Her job is not complete, and she needs to be above ground to do it. I’m sure, when the child is born, Valkyrie will tell her all about you… if she survives.”_

_“Child?”_

Valtiel turned and grabbed Val around the waist. The rest of the scene continued as it had before - Valtiel carrying Val away, while the two Executioners were left to put PH’s head on a pike. The last thing Val saw, before Valtiel pulled her through a pipe in the wall, was Kellogg forcing PH down, PH’s roars of fury following Val… out of the memory and back into the waking world.

Val sat up in the memory lounger as it opened, covering her face with both hands.

“A child… I can’t… why me? I don’t…” Valkyrie looked over to Gage, Amari and Nick.

Amari was working frantically at the back of Nick’s head. A thin trail of smoke curled from the holes in his neck, and his eyes were dark.

“Nick? NICK!”


	4. Sell My Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waiting for a loved one to survive is torture. Additional warning for this chapter for grief.
> 
> Gage struggles to console Val; Hancock is just the friend they both need.
> 
> Kent Connolly lends a hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “That is not dead which can eternal lie,  
> And with strange aeons even death may die.” - "The Nameless City," H.P. Lovecraft

Val paced back and forth in the Memory Den’s lounge area. Irma had tried to get her to take a drink of something, calm her nerves. She blamed herself for the damage done to Nick, and feared the worst if Amari couldn’t get him back.

“I killed him… I killed Nick…” she said, wiping tears from her eyes. “I shouldn’t have made him do this… I don’t… I don’t know what I’ll do…”

Gage, who had been quiet, got up from where he sat with Irma. Crossing to Val, he put his arms around her, rubbing her back. He kissed her cheek, trying to get her to stop blaming herself. He didn’t understand what had gone on between Val and that PH character, didn’t need the details. Val did what she needed to. It sounded like she had done what she always did: manage to _appeal_ to someone, regardless of how, and get them on her side.

Unfortunately, it also seemed to spell his demise.

“Val, it’s okay… Amari’s working on him. They got KLEO in there, and Rufus…” Gage said, holding Val tight. “He knew the risks.”

“But I made him-”

“Val, it’s not your fault.” Gage stood back, cradling Val’s face in his hands. It had been a long time since he’d seen her look so fragile, but he understood why, this time. Valentine was the closest Val had gotten to a father - her words - and if she lost him, it would hurt just as much.

Valkyrie gulped and rubbed at her nose. “I wish I’d known I was going to react that way… I didn’t know I could…” She sniffed. “I’ve never hated someone so much… and PH… I think he was trying to protect me.”

Gage sighed, nodding. “Yeah, that’s what Amari said when she saw that little bit from yesterday. Seems like…” Gage paused, withholding judgement. They didn’t need to get into discussion of her having an affair with a monster. “Seems like he was under that ol’ _Valkyrie_ spell, just like me.”

The corner of Val’s mouth twitched in a fleeting smirk. She didn’t look mollified by the compliment, nor did Gage expect her to be, not under that kind of stress.

A sound near the front door had Val turning, everyone wondering who would be trying to get into the Den when there was a sign out front. Kent’s voice could be heard by the door - Irma had him watching for and turning away customers who missed the “closed” sign, in light of recent events.

“I’m s-sorry, sir, we’re not open-”

“I’m not here as a client,” clipped a man’s voice, familiar to Val. “Amari called me for assistance. You have an injured Synth in your charge.”

“Oh, of course… Back this way…”

Kent entered the main room, followed by Dr. Carrington. He glanced Valkyrie’s way, passing by her on his way downstairs.

“Charmer,” was all Carrington said to her as he went.

Val sat down heavily on Irma’s chaise. That Amari had called for backup was worrying, but that she called _Carrington_ , who helped human and Synth alike, was promising. That he arrived so quickly - Gage hoped he could help Nick, he really did.

Val’s hands folded over her stomach, and she looked at the floor. She looked like she might be sick. She hadn’t eaten since before coming to the Den, and her sleep had not been for very long the night before.

“I need… I need to…” she trailed, looking back between Gage and the door leading to Amari’s work area.

Irma placed a gentle hand on Val’s shoulder.

“Why don’t you go over to the Third Rail, sweetheart, get something to calm you down? We can send Kent over when we need you to come back,” she suggested.

“No, I should… I should be here for Nick…” Val whispered.

Gage sat beside his wife, draping an arm over her shoulders. “It might be hours before they tell us anything. You need to eat.”

Valkyrie got up and walked away from the chaise, storming out of the Memory Den entirely.

Irma sighed and sat down where Val had just been.

“You go after her, honey. Grief’s pretty painful on your own.”

Gage nodded, and followed after his wife.

Outside, in Scollay Square, the area was heavy with fog, so dense that no sunlight could break through. Everyone exited or entered the fog while holding their arms out, trying to make their way across Goodneighbor safely. Gage thought they looked like comic book zombies. All but one figure: Val. Her silhouetted form passed through the fog effortlessly, disappearing under the pinkish glow of the Third Rail’s sign.

Gage carried forward, wondering how Val could navigate the mists. It was thick enough that he could barely see the light, let alone the _ground_ under his feet. Even trying to give care to where he was going, he crashed into a Neighborhood Watch member, who cussed him out for not looking.

By the time he got to the Third Rail, Ham was missing from his post and Gage could hear shouting downstairs. Gage took the steps two at a time to find Ham with his arms around Val, in the middle of a mess of tables and bar stools. Ham struggled to keep her from attacking, lifting her up to drag her to the VIP lounge. The few patrons who were in the Rail that early all exchanged looks and started righting tables for Whitechapel Charlie.

“You sit your ass down and shut the hell up! You’re only still here because of the boss!” Ham shouted. “If Hancock weren’t still ****sweet**** on you, you’d be picking up your teeth with tweezers!” Ham stormed out of the VIP lounge, past Gage, not giving him a second look as he headed upstairs again.

Magnolia glided over to the ex-raider’s side, resting her hand on his elbow.

“I know an emotional fit when I see one, sweetheart. What happened?”

Gage took a deep breath, tearing his eyes away from the image of Val, seated on a VIP couch like a scolded child. He hated to see her like this - when she couldn’t help someone, it drove Val mad. Nick crashing, the memory of PH being executed while she was being dragged away… it had to remind her of Nate, watching him die, too. She hated to lose, especially when she had no means of stopping it.

“Her and Valentine tried an experimental memory trip… he crashed during it. Amari ain’t sure if she can get him up and running again,” Gage said. “Nick’s like a father to her.”

“The detective? Oh, poor thing…” Magnolia left Gage’s side to get a glass of water from Charlie and carried it into the VIP lounge. She sat with Val, offering the cup and making her drink.

Hancock appeared in Magnolia’s place shortly after, watching the singer put her arms around Val. Val leaned into Magnolia and started to cry again, holding onto the other woman tight.

“What happened?” he asked. “Ham tells me she started trashing the place. I wouldn’t have believed him if there weren't glass all over the floor.”

Gage explained it to Hancock: the memories bothering Val, getting Nick to help with her recovery, and his subsequent crash. That Val was blaming herself for his condition, and that Amari, another doctor, and the town mechanic were all working on him. As he spoke, Gage felt rooted to where he stood, watching someone else console his wife.

“Shit. Valentine’s a good guy. Probably one of the few who knows her best, yanno?” Hancock removed his hat. “She gets anything outta this, I hope it’s the knowledge that people give a fuck about her, and not just because she’s a hero. She’s family.”

Gage turned, scanning Hancock’s face briefly. “I dunno what that’s like. I ran away from home as a kid. Wasn’t exactly… close to my parents to begin with. They’re probably dead and I never really thought about how someone might care for another person like that.”

Hancock patted Gage’s back. “Explains why you’re not doing too well with this, either. How do you make someone feel better when _you_ don’t know how they feel?” he said. “It’s alright, you know. You can’t pick her up every time she falls.”

“Yeah, but I should.”

“Gage…” Hancock looped his arm across Gage’s shoulders, pulling him towards the lounge. “Follow my lead.”

“Hancock, wait.” Gage resisted moving forward, dragging Hancock to the side of the door instead. “D’you still… you know?”

“Love her?” Hancock scratched at his head. “You’re putting me on the spot, here-”

“ _John._ ”

Sighing, Hancock nodded. “Man, of course I do. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I still play bachelor, give a few people my ‘personal tours’ of Goodneighbor… but there’s always a little piece of me that’s gonna stick by her. Even if she’s with someone else. I just want her to be happy. She didn’t always let herself be, which is why we split, even though I forgave her for Fahrenheit a long time ago. Sometimes, that shit just hangs on.”

Gage nodded. He swallowed a lump in his throat. Val carried guilt like Brahmin carried goods. Having an ally - no, a _friend -_ like Hancock would make this go smoother.

“That’s… well… it’s too much to explain now, but… I kinda do need you on this. She's...”

Hancock smiled wryly, giving Gage a punch in the arm, like Val would.

“I know she’s a bleeding heart, man. As long as we’re on the same page.” Circling his arm around Gage’s shoulders again, Hancock led the way into the VIP lounge to offer his condolences and help reassure Val that she was not to blame.

Hours passed. Val, Gage and Hancock were joined by Dogmeat and Kid while they waited for news of Nick’s condition. Enough time had passed that the sirens began to blare, signaling the coming night. Everyone stayed fairly quiet, the tension thicker than the dreadful fog outside. Kid kept his head down, working in his sketchbook on a drawing of Nick, since he was on all their minds.

The Third Rail was mostly empty by the time Ham came back downstairs again, accompanied by Kent Connolly.

Val looked up, ready to cry again. She squeezed Gage and Hancock’s hands tight.

“He’s gonna be okay,” Kent said, smiling. “Dr. Amari and Carrington managed to get him back online, thanks to K-KLEO being a backup-mmph!”

Val darted across the room while Kent was talking, planting a kiss on his lips before giving him a tight hug.

“Yowza,” breathed Kent, hugging Val back only because he looked ready to faint. Gage couldn’t recall ever seeing a ghoul turn that shade of red.

“Nobody’s ever d-done that before…”

“Give me more great news, and you’ll get another,” Val said.

“You can g-go see him if you want.” Kent leaned back, looking at Val bashfully. “You don’t have to k-k-kiss me again.”

Val kissed his cheek instead. “Thank you, Kent. I’m going.”

Everyone else who had been waiting with her got to their feet. Together, they headed back to the Memory Den. The dark night did not feel as oppressive as it normally did, not with the news that Nick was going to be okay.

In spite of the good news, seeing a smile on Val’s face that wasn’t derived from her alien-vixen problem, Gage still had the one thought at the back of his mind, the one answer to his question since she’d disappeared. What held him back from comforting his wife when she needed him most.

Val had gone to Hell.

It couldn’t be real. Anything she had ‘experienced’ ****couldn’t have been**** ** _ **real**_** ** **.**** Not ten years, not going to Hell… not making one of “God’s Weapons” selfishly keep her as a plaything. And not her supposed child. Val couldn’t have kids anymore. He’d been there when the hysterectomy was performed. She been dead, however briefly, with the birth of Freya. He didn’t want her to die again. Val only had so much luck. The instinct to cut and run, to leave this whole monster nonsense behind and start over, again, crossed his mind.

But… could he really outrun the past this time? Gage didn’t think he could. Some shit just _followed_ , haunting you right until you ended up in the ground.

“Pa, you okay?” Kid asked, walking at the back of the group when Gage trailed behind.

“No.” Gage looked up at the Memory Den’s sign. Val and Hancock had already gone in with Kent, leaving Gage and Kid out in the middle of the square.

“Things just… they’re not right.”

Kid nodded, adjusting the bag with his gear on his shoulder. “No, they’re not.”

Gage looked to his son, surprised that he was agreeing with him. Too many people seemed happy about Val being ****back**** to notice all the little things that were _wrong_. At least Kid picked up the same feeling. Or at least, they weren’t addressing it: the apparent ten years of lived experiences, the reflective lens in her eyes, the fact that her _blood wasn’t blood anymore._ The piercings he kept to himself, but that scar over her heart… he would have remembered it. He’d mapped every other one on her body with his hands. Did it have anything to do with this? Did any of it have real ****meaning**** , or was it all just a pile of strange events that happened to lean against each other, turning this situation into the most dire house of cards?

“But,” Kid added, interrupting Gage’s thoughts, “We can’t act like they are. When we get Miss Val home, I think we should siddown and talk. ‘Spite of what you told me you saw in her memories… somethin’ ain’t right about that, too.”

“What do you mean?”

Kid looked around at the square. The fog had rolled back, giving everything a haze, but not being nearly as dense as it had been in the day. No one really paid them any mind, as it was just the Watch making their rounds with the coming of night.

“I mean… if it is all real… why’d that guy let her go if she’s havin’ some sorta Hell-baby? I’d think they’d want it, yanno… _home._ Why her at all? Ain’t women gone to Hell? Why’s he want her up here? What’s his endgame? There’s a big piece we’re missing.”

Gage shook his head. Not knowing was going to drive him nuts. He thanked whatever powers still favored him for Kid. He might not have been the toughest, meanest sonuvabitch in the wastes, but he had somehow inherited Gage’s pragmatism, knew how to listen and what to learn. Being ignored gave him the unique power of hiding in plain sight, and it kept Kid alive and sharp. He saw what Gage saw: A big blind spot covering something that had to be _worse_ , and it troubled Kid as much as Gage that the others seemed to be ignoring it.

“I wanna just think it was all some sorta long hallucination, like she’d just been in a coma for the last month, but the changes to her body…” Gage looked up at the sign again, eye taking in the word “Memory” and weighing it against his feelings. “The things in her head… Val’s got her dark side, but I don’t think she’d ever conjure up somethin’ like that.”

“Then, we figure this out together. She can’t do it alone,” Kid said. “We look after our own, right?”

“Right.”

At the Den, Val was inside, hugging Nick, apologizing, and crying. The old Synth was on his feet, a little crispier around the edges of his torn skin, but he looked alright.

“...stop blaming yourself, kid. I knew the risks. I just didn’t know you could be so mad as to make _me_ blow a gasket,” Nick teased, trying to make Val smile.

Val rubbed at her eyes. “I’m not blaming myself,” she lied, “…we thought all the risks were going to be mine. I just thought… I thought, with you there… you at least know how I feel.”

Nick nodded, settling down into a chair. “Of course I do. Having that information just out of your reach, memories, not even sure if they’re things you _lived_ or things someone else put in your head for you… Feeling like, if you can just find an edge, you can peel away the whole facade and see the truth for what it is.”

Hancock blew out a long line of smoke from his cigarette.

“Jesus, Nick, that’s deep. So, you saw the Val behind the curtain. Do you think any of that was real?” Hancock asked. “You think our sunshine here went to Hell?”

Gage pulled up a chair next to Hancock, turning it around and straddling it, his arms folded on the back.

“If she did, I don’t think she went on Death’s terms. Outside of the few physical changes, Val’s more or less the same. Don’t seem like anyone who’s been to Hell and back to me,” Gage said. He took a cigarette when Hancock offered it to him, letting the ghoul light it.

Nick flipped his lighter open and closed a few times before he lit his own smoke, the habit more comforting than the nicotine it provided. Not like he had lungs to ruin.

“I felt something there. It was solid. Tangible. If it _was_ a dream, it was pretty damn vivid to fool me,” Nick said. “But Hell? Really now? You’d think Hell’s already here, wouldn’t you? The War, the aftermath…” he looked towards Val.

Val picked at her bottom lip, staring at the table top in between her and the rest of the group. She wasn’t listening.

“Hey, sunshine, you still in there?” Hancock asked.

Jumping as she was addressed, Val looked up at all the expectant faces around her.

“What?”

Nick leaned forward, putting a hand on hers.

“We’re trying to determine: do you think you really went to Hell?” Nick asked.

Val shook her head. “I… I don’t know. I keep… thinking that it couldn’t have been real, but it had to be. I’m questionably alive, I can see in the dark, but I’m not exactly shedding flesh like a ghoul. What does that make me, then? What about ‘PH?’ What was he? If I was in Hell, and his title was ‘Executioner,’ what was my sentence and why did he carry it out… uh… _romantically?_ ” She put her head in her hands, growling in frustration.

“And Valtiel. I keep thinking about that name. ****Valtiel****. The feeling I get every time I say it. I can’t make that go away.”

Nick smirked, balancing his cigarette between his lips.

“To be fair, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you that mad, and I was there when you put Kellogg’s lights out. Back then, you were focused, you knew what you were up against, and what you were doing. This Valtiel character… seems a little above your pay-grade.”

“At least you got a trifecta,” Hancock said, chuckling to himself. “ _Val_ kyrie, _Val_ entine, _Val_ tiel. If he turns out to not be so bad after all, you should start a band.”

Everyone at the table groaned or suffered Hancock a laugh for his observation. Grinning, he got up from his seat, tucked in his chair, and put his hands on the back of it.

“I’m heading back to the statehouse. Val, Gage, if you wanna crash at my place instead of the Rexford, you’re more than welcome. I think you’d rather keep better company than Marowski.” He winked in Val’s direction.

Gage snorted. “You saying that’s you?”

“Hey, it’s free,” Hancock said.

“Well, we’re not going anywhere while it’s still dark,” Val said, getting up from her chair. “Might as well not look a gift horse in the mouth. We can start heading back for Sanctuary in the morning,” she added.

Nick got to his feet, pulled on his coat, and gave Val another embrace.

“I think I’ll follow with you for a bit tomorrow. There’s something I want to look into before I head back to Diamond City. I think I can still be of service to this case,” he said.

Val raised an eyebrow. “This case? There isn’t one.”

“You may think that, but there’s still some _mystery_ here, something unresolved, and you know it. Trying to cover it up with good cheer and fake smiles only gets you so far. I’m not going to rest until I know that you’re gonna be okay,” Nick said. “And it starts by looking into, well… this Valtiel character. I saw something on him in your memories I think may help point me in a certain direction. I’m thinking I might start with the Bugle’s old archives - it’s one of the oldest newspapers around. Hopefully it all hasn’t turned to dust.”

Val folded her arms over her chest. She was a little miffed that Valentine saw right through her pleasant front, but that was why they were so close. He called her on her bullshit and held her accountable for it.

“I’m glad one of us managed to pull something useful from a glimpse at the past… I couldn’t see anything… Just… PH…” Val’s voice cracked. She didn’t know what to make of the creature in her memories, but it hurt to think of him, recalling the way he tried to reach for her, while others of his own kind sought to kill him. Just for _caring_ about her. It wasn’t right.

Patting her shoulder, Nick gave her a sympathetic smile. “I know. He might have been a brute, but there was something… almost human, there. Why else would you have been furious enough to fry my hardware?”

“Nick…” Val sighed, not enjoying the reminder.

“Val, I’m _fine_. But, to answer your question, I’m going to start with the obvious: The occult. A couple of well known writers were from the area, and their stories reflected on magic, demons-”

“You’re talking about H.P. Love-c-craft and Edgar Allen P-Poe, right?” Kent Connolly leaned out of his room, looking into the Lounger area. He nervously approached the table, one of his comic books cradled in his hands.

“Why… yes, Kent, I am,” Nick said, impressed with Kent’s conclusion. “They had to get their ideas from somewhere, right?”

Kent fiddled with the edge of the comic. “Well, P-Poe didn’t stay around Boston for long, and he moved around a lot, so c-calling him a ‘local author’ is kind of misleading. And… and a lot of his writing was less the occult and more the macabre, because, y’know… depression. Lovecraft… he might have invented cosmic horror, but only because he was a b-big racist.”

Val’s eyes were wide. “Holy crap, Kent. I knew you were a geek, but I thought your focus was on comic books and radio serials. Good on you.”

Kent dipped his head, blushing a little. “Well, c-cause of my stutter, I couldn’t go into acting or radio like I dreamed, but when I went to c-college, I majored in Literature, so I could write for the Silver Shroud one day. A lot of it just stuck.”

“Well, I take it you had a grand point to make, Kent, or you wouldn’t be out here with part of your prize collection,” said Valentine, gesturing to the comic book in his hands.

“Oh, oh yeah, of course!” Kent carefully laid the comic book down on the table. “Unstoppables, 194: Darkest Days,” he said. “A spin-off comic about the Unstoppables going up against a d...demonic cult. It was kind of a short run, not many people liked the dark fantasy angle, some just c-calling it evil, for its depictions of sacrifice and stuff, but…” he carefully flipped through the pages until he got to a two-page spread: A page revealing the “cult” in question. A large, circular symbol was drawn in the middle, presumably in blood, with a robed figure at the forefront, saying something in jumbled Latin. Val leaned over the image, almost touching the comic with her fingertips. The symbol in the center, depicted so clearly, stirred something in Val; she stopped herself from touching it when Kent made a distressed whine.

“The author of this c-comic series, Calvin Murdock, was huge into dark stuff, or so the history goes.” Kent slid the comic back a little, out from under Val’s hand. “He wanted to do a few episodes of the Silver Shroud TV show, but be…because of the controversy surrounding the c-comic, they blackballed him. _He_ lived in Boston, Calvin Murdock did, right up until his death, just before the war.” Seeing everyone looking to him to finish up with his reveal. “He did all his research at Boston Public Library.” Kent dropped his voice to a whisper. “The stuff they keep in the basement. Dark, forbidden stuff they don’t want the public reading about. Not the _fiction_ section.”

Valentine chuckled, patting Kent’s shoulder. “All right, I’ll take a look when I get done in the archives, but are you _sure_ that wasn’t just publicity they drummed up to sell more comics? People love a controversy.”

“No, it-it-it’s true! The comic only went five issues before it was canceled. They never even finished the storyline, just left it at the climax, right before the big fight. And the library _hated_ that people knew Murdock did his research there,” Kent insisted. “Really got… got people shook up when that tragedy at Dunwich went down, blamed everything on Satan there, too.”

Valkyrie smiled and elbowed Nick. “Well, you’ve got your lead. Look in to this forbidden library basement. See if this Murdock had any black cats or crystal balls. As for me, I think I’m going to join Hancock at the Statehouse. At least I won’t have to smell Fred cooking his shitty Jet.”

Nick smiled, turning to Val and offering her a full hug. “Can do. Get some sleep this time.”

In the Old Statehouse, Gage put his feet up on a table, leaning back on one of Hancock’s couches. Val sat between him and Hancock, leaning into his side. She looked exhausted, but refused to go to bed alone. Not after almost losing Nick - the fear of waking up to find out he actually had died was too overwhelming. If he _had_ died, she’d rather keep dreaming.

“You know, darlin’, you never really answered the question,” Gage said. He squeezed with the arm he had around her shoulders, getting her attention. “You just said it felt real. Lots a’ shit feels real when it ain’t. An elaborate lie, a whole lot of production, can seem a lot like an actual place if implemented right.”

Lifting her head from his chest, Val looked at Gage and sighed.

“Do I think I went to Hell? I don’t know if I did, but I’ll probably end up there someday,” she said. “Wherever I really was, it wasn’t _here_. Not the Commonwealth, not… not even Earth.”

The concepts of Heaven and Hell were still around, though not exactly preached a whole lot in the Commonwealth. More likely to run into the Children of Atom if you sought religion. Most people didn’t want to hope for something better, not when blood was to be shed every day to survive. Active belief in the afterlife was minimal at best. Valentine had hit the nail on the head: to many, the Commonwealth was already Hell. What could be worse?

Beside Val, Hancock took a swift inhale of Jet.

“You definitely went ****somewhere**** , sunshine,” Hancock said, exhaling the “smoke” from his chem fix. “We couldn’t find you for a solid month. I mean, being hamstrung by a whole lotta bullshit monsters didn’t help matters - but it was like you’d vanished.” He picked up a beer bottle from the table and leaned back again, letting the Jet take over.

Val snorted, sitting up between both men. “It’s just... I remember getting _to_ Parson’s and making my way downstairs. After that - before Amari pulled the other ones outta my head - I saw Porter picking me up.” She smiled, leaning nudging Gage with her elbow. “It’s like he loves me or something.”

Gage flushed and turned away, stubbing out his cigarette in an ashtray near his feet.

“Not like I’m alone,” he muttered.

Hancock choked on his beer, spilling some onto his old shirt. “Shit, Gage, just call me out why don’tcha?”

“I never said it was you. _You_ called you out,” Gage responded. “But I’m not wrong, am I?”

“Gage…” Val shook her head. “Just because people call me a ‘hero’ doesn’t mean-”

“Well, he’s right, dollface. All those friends you’ve made? Me and Nick and Preston and Cait… shit, if you can explain it right to Strong, he’ll probably admit he loves you too,” Hancock said. He leaned into Valkyrie’s side, tucking an arm behind her and resting his head on her chest, like she had been with Gage. “We’re family.”

Val smirked and placed a kiss on Hancock’s forehead. “The jet’s kicking in hard already,” she murmured, resting her hand on his shoulder. “You’re getting sappy.”

Gage scoffed. “No, he’s right. And - screw it - he admitted that he’s _still_ in lovewith you, too.”

“Gage-” Both of them responded; Val in surprise, Hancock in mild betrayal.

“You didn’t have to-” Val started.

“It’s not like it’s a secret-” Hancock interrupted.

“No, it’s not.” Gage sat up further, pushing them both up so he wasn’t pinned to the side of the couch. A fire kicked up inside him, one thing of many that bothered him that needed resolving. At least this one was fairly simple, if he handled it properly.

“You both care a lot for each other, too, and it’s been driving me a _little fucking crazy_ ever since we went home with Freya. ”

Two pairs of eyes fixed on Gage’s face before he stood up.

Hancock flinched. “That long, huh?” The child Gage had mentioned was over a year old now; he hung his head for making Gage worry that long.

“Yanno what? I don’t even care. I mean, fuck, I _do_ , but I mean that - shit, I don’t know what the hell I mean.” Gage gestured helplessly. “I mean… If you’re in love with each other still, _fine,_ just don’t leave me in the dark about it. You two dancin’ around each other like a goddamned mine field is gonna make ****somebody**** blow the fuck up and this guilt bullshit is gonna rear it’s ugly fuckin’ head again and I don’t need it!”

Val sat with her hands balled into fists on her thighs, staring hard at the top of Hancock’s coffee table. Hancock looked away, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You know I still hold a torch for you, sunshine. Damn it, if you are going ghoul, I can wait it out for the long term,” Hancock murmured. “I mean, if Gage… heh, don’t wanna share.”

“Thank you. Now, baby, you.” Gage decided he could address the “sharing” part later. Val needed to let off some pressure, too. When she hesitated, Gage seated himself on the table, resting his hands on her knees. “C’mon, you know how I hate talking about feelings and shit but this is making me lose my goddamned mind. I ain’t accusin’ you of cheating on me, ‘coz I know you ain’t. I just need to put this to rest before one or the both of you does somethin’ you’ll regret and **actually** piss me off.”

Val looked up at Gage, eyes shining and wet. “I love you.” She swallowed. “I love both of you.”

Gage’s shoulders sagged as he exhaled out his tension. “Finally. Put that one to rest.” He sat up again, took Val by the shoulders and looked her square in the eye.

“Now… if that… ‘PH’… was real… do you think you cared for him, too? You seemed awful upset when he was being attacked,” Gage said. He wondered if it could force memories out, or at least line a few explanations up, getting her to talk about it.

Closing her eyes, Val rubbed her hands on her legs as she struggled to recall.

“I don’t know what it was. Might have just been me sympathizing because they ganged up on him… because Kellogg was there… or felt like it… like when Nate…”

Val’s eyes snapped open as she doubled over, holding her left hand. She pulled and rubbed at her ring finger, as if there were something there to hurt her.

“It’s burning!” she exclaimed, leaning back and jamming her eyes shut. “I don’t- ow…owowowow, oh fuck…”

Gage and Hancock pried her hands apart, examining her left hand for whatever it was. At first, it looked like nothing as Hancock drew his fingers gently over her palm, examining it for injury. As they both watched, the skin around her ring finger split like it was being torn open from the inside, causing her to bleed profusely. Hancock jumped to his feet and across the room. He grabbed a strip of the cleanest cloth he could find and darted back.

Gage held onto her palm, putting pressure underneath the finger in an attempt to stem the flow of blood. Val cried out as the bleeding continued, digging the fingers of her right hand into her thigh to try to distract from the wound on her left.

Working quickly, Hancock bandaged the torn flesh as fast as he could, tying off the cloth snugly. Val leaned into Gage’s side, breathing out the pain as it began to subside, leaving the cloth bloody and saturated.

“Shit, I’m gonna see if I’ve got a Stim-” Hancock started, getting up to leave the room.

Val took a few more deep breaths. “Wait,” she said, flexing her left hand. She began to unwrap it again, to Gage and Hancock’s protests when the bloody cloth came free.

Her hand was whole again, as if it had never been torn open, merely stained with blood. Except for one new feature: a raw, red scar circling her ring finger.

“We all saw that, right? I wasn’t ****just**** stoned?” Hancock asked. “Because there was-”

“Yeah, there was,” Gage said. “This… fuck, I don’t even know anymore. Shit’s too fucking crazy.”

Val looked up at him in worry. “Too crazy? You’re not… you’re not going to leave, are you?”

Gage frowned, shaking his head. “Why the hell would you think that?”

“You said you always leave when things go wrong. This…” Val held up her hand. “This whole situation - my disappearing, the changes, the _monsters_ … this is about as wrong as it gets,” she said.

“Val…” Gage sighed and took Val’s clean hand. He kissed the back of her knuckles, holding them to his cheek. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere this time. You’ve got us.”

“Us?” Hancock looked over at Gage with his eyes wide. “You mean, me, right?”

“Yeah. You’re right. I can’t help her alone, but I ain’t runnin’ out either.” Gage felt a weight come off his chest. He had worried, if he got Val and Hancock to confront each other that it meant he’d lose her, but watching them reconcile made that concern drift away. For better or worse, they were still “married,” and Hancock didn’t act like he was trying to pry them apart - if anything, he seemed more concerned with keeping Val and Gage _together_. Getting Val to be honest with ****herself**** , for a change, felt like a goddamned miracle.

Val took a deep breath and got up from the couch.

“Well, this has been dramatic and weird and not that much fun. I need to sleep, or I’m gonna over-analyze what just happened. If I think anymore, it’s gonna get bad.”

“Use my bed, you’ll both fit. I’ll just-” Hancock gestured towards his couch.

Gage got up and pulled Hancock to his feet by his bicep, the mayor unsurprisingly light in his grip.

“Nope. None-a this ‘martyred ex’ bullshit. I don’t care if it’s too damn hot. Share. I don’t give a fuck anymore. My fucks have all moved out,” Gage said.

Val raised an eyebrow. “Are you gonna be the little spoon, hon?”

Snorting, Gage shook his head. “Hell no. You’re in the middle. Just because I’m okay with…” he gestured to the three of them in the present, and their situation in the abstract, “this weirdness, doesn’t mean I’m changin’ every fuckin’ thing. ‘Sides, I think John’s earned it.”

Hancock held up his hands. “You’ll get no complaint from me, sunshine.”

* * *

_“Porter Gage… what a curious thing you are…”_

Gage sat up. It was dark, the room he sat in a lifeless void around him.

“Who the fuck is talkin’?” Gage asked, trying to see in the nothingness. He felt around him, trying to rouse Val or Hancock, but he was alone. Not even in the cramped space of Hancock’s bed, but… nowhere, it seemed like.

 _“You will know me, in time,”_ said the voice. It was cold and unfamiliar, the voice too strained for him to even guess at the speaker’s gender… if it had one.

“This is a fuckin’ dream,” he muttered, rubbing at his eye. “Go on with the nightmares, then. Get enough of ‘em in the daytime, why not make it a full day’s worth?” he said.

The voice laughed, right beside Gage’s ear. He jumped and swatted the space behind him, getting to his feet.

 _“I admire creatures like you… a guiltless thing, given a heart…”_ the voice said, dancing around him in the dark. _“Many humans go through life, weighted by the Sins that they bear, telling themselves it will all be worth it upon their Judgement day. But you, you wear your Sin like armor… ironic, that you have such capacity to be honest…”_

Gage turned around, trying to follow the direction of the voice as it circled close to him. There was a presence, ****something**** there - if he could reach it, touch it, know what it was, he could conquer it.

“Would you get to the fuckin’ point already? I’m trying to sleep.”

The voice chuckled, floating by like a hot summer breeze.

_“I have so many empty things surrounding me, heartless, mindless creatures, unknowing what you humans do. It’s… sad, really. Humanity bore me, and shall again. But, my creatures… they lack so much… very few have the capacity to reach beyond their purpose…”_

“Look, this whole ‘vague and creepy’ thing doesn’t scare me.”

 _“Ah, yes… you harbor no fear, don’t you?”_ the voice asked. At Gage’s feet, a pathway lit up, a glowing red line through the dark. _“Worries, concerns… but no real_ ** _ **fears**_** _… not anymore…”_

Rolling his eye, Gage followed the trail as it appeared, watching it grow just a few steps ahead of his feet. As he walked, vague shapes flitted in and out of the reach of the glowing line, as if he came across creatures that hid from the light.

_“Your fears died, did they not?”_

As the voice asked, the glow of the path grew brighter, revealing a tall creature in the middle. At first, Gage thought it was just some malformed monster, which was par for the course for nightmares, as far as Gage was concerned. It wasn’t until he got closer that he saw it for what it was. It looked like Nisha, standing just above him with her arms raised. Nisha reared back, and that’s when he could see that her torso grew long behind her, with extra legs and arms, except that the hands and feet were replaced with long, serrated blades. The spider-like Disciple hissed at him, raising its front arms as if to strike him dead.

Gage scoffed. “Honestly, I think she would have liked that,” he said.

_“I’m glad you show no fear. You know you are in your own mind. The place of absolute control for you. It is why you keep your head clear… it makes you so much harder to manipulate than the other crude beasts that languish in the dirt.”_

As Gage watched, the image of the monstrous Nisha faded, the attempt to frighten him going with it. The path moved on. As it did, it began to break up, no longer a solid line, but splatters of red, like shimmering puddles of blood.

“Nice touch.” Gage stepped around the pools, continuing along where he was being led. As he moved, the atmosphere around him grew heavier, like the arid flatlands just outside of Nuka World. The void began to lighten, shapes coming into focus. He walked along a grated floor now, with rusty pipes under his feet. As he carried on, he realized he was nude, anything he wore in the waking world gone, even his eyepatch.

“I ain’t about to walk into a schoolhouse like this, am I? I’ve heard about those kinds of dreams. Always seemed a little silly, to me.” Gage looked around the hallway. Words, illegible in dreams but clear in Gage’s mind were painted on the walls: SINNER. REPENT. WHY? HOW COULD YOU? Other such threats or warnings were smeared over in more red, or the walls too corroded and damaged for Gage to even make them up in his mind.

“Guess you got tired of my shit,” Gage said, when he realized he no longer felt the presence that led him to this place. Around him, things leaped and skittered between shadows. A break in the pipes made it look like something crawled through them, just inches from his feet, but it passed too quickly for Gage to tell what it was.

It seemed like, whatever this nightmare or dream was, he was meant to navigate on his own from there on out.

Putting his hand to the wall, Gage kept moving forward. He found a hallway filled with smoke, choking out any of the weak light from behind him, only sparks of flame from one side giving him any clue to where the floor was. He passed by a room filled with cribs; when he saw one of those Nurse monsters from the Commonwealth leaning over one in the middle, he decided he would rather not get its attention and moved on.

The corridors and chambers he moved through set him on a fairly straightforward course - he was not accosted by the things in the shadows: his dreamscape appeared to need him elsewhere.

“If I could find out _why_ I’m goin’ ****where**** I’m goin’, might speed this up,” Gage said as he trekked through a passageway with water over his ankles. As he waited for a sign, the voice did not return, but the corridors shifted and compressed together, grinding and screaming with the bending of metal and rending of stone until a single doorway remained in front of him.

“Huh. Thanks, I guess.” Gage let got of the wall and approached the new passage. The door looked like a fence gate, opening into another lightless void. Stone steps led from the door at a steep angle, disappearing into the dark below.

Taking a deep breath, Gage began down the stairs. Along the sides of the steps were miles of more rusted fencing, preventing him from going anywhere but forward. He considered turning back, not letting the nightmare or whatever it was have its way, but, looking behind, the stairs ascended into nothingness as well. The only source of light appeared to follow him, as if the presence that led him there gave him just enough to get by.

The further down he went, the more light began to return as he approached what looked to be a chamber, floating in the nothingness. Far below, distant glows like firelight illuminated the silhouettes of massive piping going in all directions, but no real structure holding up the place he found. Pillars lined the room, reaching up into the black. Faint lights trailed appeared every ten feet or so, but those, too, vanished into shadow.

“Where the Hell am I?”

_“What a poignant question.”_

Gage jumped, startled that the voice had returned. “Don’t do that. What is this place?”

_“It is as you said. Hell.”_

Gage frowned. He was in Hell. All that drama and walking, and _this_ was Hell?

“Not very impressive, gotta say.”

The voice chuckled. The presence seemed to move in front of him, a shift in light and shadow just enough to give Gage the impression of someone there, but no real shape.

_“You’re not here to be judged. Your body sleeps still, safe in your wife’s arms. Consider this journey… a vision, as well as a request.”_

“Always a catch.” Gage shook his head. “I’m being given some sort of unholy mission, I’m gonna lose my marbles and start preachin’ the word of Atom, is that it? No thanks. Find another patsy.”

The presence drifted closer in front of him. He thought, for a moment, he caught eyes, blue eyes, almost like Val’s, but the image passed before he could really give them a good look. He considered that he was only _thinking_ he saw these things - the thought of Val and being in this place making for one ****Hell**** of a dream.

_“You misunderstand. I require your service.”_

“Lemme guess, my soul, too?”

A feeling of ice and flame touched his chin, guiding him to look across the chamber he stood in. As he focused, he gasped realizing he was seeing the room Val had been held in - the one from her memories of “PH” and the kidnapping by Valtiel.

_“Do you see, now?”_

Gage’s mouth dropped open as he picked up his pace, crossing the stone floor quickly. An altar of blood and bone sat at the far end, surrounded in razor wire. In the middle, bound to a crucifix of iron, hung the Executioner. Val’s Executioner, PH. His body appeared lifeless, beaten and torn. Sections of flesh looked stripped away, exposing bone and muscle. His entire chest was bloody, all centered on the place where he had been impaled upon a spear in Val’s memories. Large railroad spikes were driven into his hands, pinning him to the iron cross. More razor wire circled his body, and his skirt was shredded by it, drawn so tight as to cut through the leathery wrap and deep into the muscle of his thighs. His head, heavy with the great red mask he wore, hung down.

The most surprising, however, was when the Executioner drew in a ragged breath. Heaving his massive chest and pulling against his restraints, the Executioner fought with his bindings a few moments, only to sag again and go still.

“Wait, so he’s alive?”

 _“Hell is home to the dead. Death is not a function of life here, for there is no life to end. He exists, suffering. What things may die, live again, as you might see it. Hell is repetition. Hell is inescapable for those brought to it. You will come here, some day, and know this torture.”_ The presence seemed more distant, coming from the area within the bones and wire, as if floating near the crucified monster.

Gage swallowed. He never feared going to Hell - always figured it was what he deserved. He had made his peace with that idea a long time ago, since he didn’t quite believe in it, either. If it did, he was going, and that as that. No point in repenting now.

All that, however, did not weigh on his mind as much as the fact that the presence had asked of him a favor, and being led to this specific place, he had a notion as to what it was.

“Am I supposed to get him out of here? Get him to Val, somehow?” Gage asked, staring at the hanging corpse in front of him. The Executioner drew in another harsh breath, curling its arms and trying to pull itself free. The struggling was more intense, as fresh wounds opened, blood running off the Executioner’s body as he strained. Gage wondered if it heard him, as it seemed to react to him saying Val’s name.

_“No, and yes. Valkyrie opened the gate, he merely needs to pass through it. His imprisonment will not last much longer, but you will need to stay with your wife.”_

“Why?”

 _“Valtiel. He seeks to use my mother… he has already punished my father… I tire of his service, but can do nothing… yet. This being is the sword,_ **_**you** _ ** _are the shield. She will need you both. Until he finds her, you will be her only guard-_ _”_

Gage interrupted, moving closer to the bloody display.

“Wait, you’re this… _child_ Valtiel mentioned? Why the fuck should I help you? Val don’t need to be used like this. And she’s already died from childbirth once. I don’t want-”

_“I know. Why do you think I called you here? You already walk with Hell, Porter. One day, you will join the ranks of Executioner, serving your sentence as an instrument of my Will.”_

“And why the fuck would I do that?”

_“Because, Porter… I am God.”_

Gage jerked awake and sat up in bed. He rubbed the heels of his palms against his eyes, pressing them hard just to feel the anchoring sting of real pain. He could still see the image of the Executioner in his mind, crucified, pulling against his restraints. Blood poured out of the injuries, but the more he struggled, it seemed the more furious he became. The voice had told him the Executioner _would_ escape. The last thing he could recall was him getting one arm free, tearing his skin on the razor wire with a ferocious roar. The sound still echoed in his ears.

Beside him, Valkyrie stirred. Hancock had rolled over, oblivious to the other two waking up. Sitting up, Val leaned sleepily on Gage’s shoulder, placing a drowsy kiss there.

“Gage, you okay, hon?” she asked, rubbing at her eyes.

Normally, a sleep-drunk Val was an endearing sight, but Gage’s mind was on the dream, or perhaps it really was a vision he had. He touched Val’s face with one hand, rubbing a thumb over her cheek. He could see her eyes, the blue irises framing a reflection of silver from a nearby lantern Hancock kept burning.

“I just…” Gage leaned in and kissed Val, earning a pleased sigh.

“Mm, you’re okay,” she murmured, curling her arms around him and trying to pull him back down to the bed. He stopped her, bracing himself with one arm.

“Val, wait…”

“Yeah?”

A flash of lightning interrupted his thoughts, drawing Gage’s attention outside. He got up slowly, approaching the window, looking toward the sky. Instead of the blanket of night or the hazy pink of the coming dawn, it was different.

The sky was red.

“What the fuck?” Val murmured, getting up to look out the window with Gage as a storm, loud and fierce, began to move in.

Gage swallowed a lump in his throat. Though he hadn’t been told how he’d know… he knew.

“He got free,” he murmured.

Val looked up to him, hugging his waist. “What? Who got free?”

Looking down at Val, he recalled the dream again. The feeling was certain now, seeing the bloody sky open up, dumping buckets of rain on the Commonwealth.

“The Executioner.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously I wasn't gonna kill Nick! But now it's getting serious, oooooo.


	5. One Taste of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Val and gang head back to Sanctuary while the Commonwealth undergoes a bit of an environmental shift with the coming of the Executioner. On the way, Val attempts to make friends with an old Super Mutant named Bonecrusher.
> 
> Nick goes to the Library, and discovers that he is not going to be able to work alone. Unfortunately, there are other things in the dark that make his job even harder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introducing: Bonecrusher! He's a Super Mutant OC/NPC made up for this chapter, as well as a new sub-group of monster, The Fallen. Anything with "Fallen" preceding its name is this specific type of creature, which is me Silent-Hill-ifying some of the Commonwealth's typical random encounters.

The red sky followed them for days.

Though Gage had said the Executioner was coming, he did not offer what made him so certain. He just kept quiet, contemplative, as they crossed back towards Sanctuary. They departed Goodneighbor with a handful of other travelers wishing to group up to raise their chances for survival - Cricket and her caravan, a trio of Operators who needed to get back to their outpost by Diamond City, and a lone Super Mutant named Bonecrusher, who had ended up there thanks to an unusually kind gesture from Doc Weathers.

Of the party, Val felt bad for Bonecrusher. Mutants had an inherent need to make clans, forming hierarchies of the strongest and meanest of their kind. Unfortunately for Bonecrusher, that meant nothing to a pack of two-headed monsters that ambushed his tribe. Bonecrusher had survived only because he had the luck to be knocked unconscious in the fight and the Twinscreamers that attacked were too dumb to know the difference between out cold and stone dead. Doc Weathers’ caravan had come upon him in a pass towards the Castle, and the good doctor decided to patch him up - buying himself backup until they parted ways.

It was only because Bonecrusher had heard of the human who took out Fist that he decided to travel with Valkyrie and her group at all. Bonecrusher’s tribe hated Fist for pushing them out of the Trinity Tower, so he was glad to act as a guardian for the time being. Called it a “revenge debt,” because Fist would be glad to know Val died, so he intended to keep her alive until they reached Sanctuary.

Val was just glad to have the extra muscle, and he wasn’t bad with an assault rifle, either. Bonecrusher reminded her of Erickson, the Super Mutant in Far Harbor who had shed his brutal calling to raise dogs in the forest - except Bonecrusher was still as surly as the others of his kind around Boston. He mostly had a better grasp of language. So, really, he was more like Virgil…

Still, he ended up being a better conversational companion than Gage, who continued to keep something from Val. All he’d said was that he would “explain better when he understood more” himself, and left Val hanging.

Taking the front of the group, Val walked beside Bonecrusher, peering through the reddened fog with her uncanny sight.

“So, how many bones did you have to crush before you earned the name?” she asked. Normally, she should have kept quiet, but the wind blowing through the abandoned and destroyed buildings off the Charles river made for chilling moans that surrounded them.

“Two-hundred and six,” Bonecrusher growled. “With my bare hands.”

“So, just one human?”

Bonecrusher raised a brow and glanced in Val’s direction. “No. Super Mutant. The one who betrayed my clan to Fist.”

“What was his name?” Val asked.

“It doesn’t matter anymore. He’s dead.”

Val nodded, slinging her rifle across her shoulders. Between Gage’s silence, Bonecrusher’s surliness and Cricket and Kid each setting off the other’s anxiety, Val considered it a miracle that all of them had made it this far without killing _each other_ first.

They were just leaving the Cambridge area, heading into Lexington. They wanted to make Corvega by nightfall - it had solid walls, steel doors and plenty of space. The Raiders who had made it home could be bargained with for shelter.

“Hold that properly or don’t carry it,” Bonecrusher snapped. “Those things move quickly. Be ready or be dead.”

“Fine, fine, Jesus…” Val said, pulling her rifle in front of her to keep it at the ready.

A low rumble came from Bonecrusher. “You want to talk, you will call more monsters to us,” he said, peering around a section of broken wall. The red sky put everything into weird shadows, making details harder to see. “But I know you will keep doing it anyway.”

Val snorted. “Well, if I keep tuned too much around me, I’m going to shoot someone for sneezing,” she said. “Conversation keeps me focused on what are our noises and something else.”

“Hmm.” Bonecrusher signaled for the group to stop. Everyone fanned out behind him and took up their weapons, searching the shadows of a demolished overpass for signs of movement. When the only thing that shuffled out of the dark was a lost Brahmin, everyone exhaled a sigh of relief, save for their new mutant friend. He put a bullet through both its heads in one shot.

“Wow… but, why?” Val asked, as Bonecrusher headed over to the downed animal and took out his knife. “We’ve got meat.”

“It was without its herd. It’ll die alone out here anyway. Better to take the meat now, than to feed the things that hunt us,” he said, getting to work on the carcass.

“It’s gonna take up time-”

“We’re not that far. Go ahead if you want. I am not like Strong, I do not need you to be my leader,” Bonecrusher said, cutting into the dead Brahmin. “I’m sure your friends would rather I not choose them for dinner when I get hungry.”

“All right, all right. Let’s just take a break. The sun’s still out… I think…” Val looked towards the sky. The fog that had escorted the monsters into the Commonwealth still surrounded them, it had just become stained with the bloody tinge that somehow signaled the coming of the Executioner. Any hint of the sun was just a lighter-red circle standing out from the rest of the deeper hues.

The group settled into an uneasy rest as Bonecrusher continued to butcher the animal, taking his prize of meat and hide. Val sat nearby, watching him work, a little fascinated by the sight of his kill. He made quick work, carving up the meat like he had done it his whole life. Val wondered if he had been a butcher before the FEV got him.

“You have names among my peo- among _other_ Super Mutants,” Bonecrusher said. He didn’t look up from his work as he spoke, but he had Val’s attention. “Some call you the Weak-Thief, taking weaker, subservient creatures as pets instead of culling them. Skullkeeper called you ‘Mother Kindness…’ because he heard rumor of Strong’s quest after you killed Fist.”

“Mother Kindness?”

“It’s not a compliment. It’s because you have many children - including Strong, and keep trying to use friendly gestures to make peace.”

“You remember what kids are?”

Bonecrusher just growled and gave her an irritated look, jabbing his knife into the meat for emphasis.

Val switched topics.

“So…Skullkeeper?” she asked, leaning in closer to listen. “Was he your leader?”

Bonecrusher shook his head. “He was my partner. He collected skulls of his kills as trophies.”

Val sat up a little straighter, curious as to just how Super Mutants used that word.

“Partner? Like, you were co-leaders? First two of your little group? Bestest buds?” she asked. Super Mutants were all highly pretty hierarchical within their clans, many deferring to the toughest, some to the most experienced and smarter ones. She began to wonder if they understood the concept of love; they knew about communal sharing, it wouldn’t be a stretch to see them “share” leadership as partners.

Sighing heavily, Bonecrusher wiped down his knife as he moved onto another section of the Brahmin, removing bones and organs that even he wouldn’t eat.

“No. Stop asking about him. He’s… gone.”

Bonecrusher turned his back to Val as he gathered up the meat into a bundle and began to tie it off. Despite this, she was certain she saw him brush over his eyes with his forearm.

 _Oh._ Val wanted to give him a hug, tell him she understood, but Bonecrusher was upset enough for her prodding. She _really_ wanted to make it to Sanctuary in one piece. Still…

“A lot of people have been killed by these monsters. I’m going to make it stop.”

Scoffing, Bonecrusher got to his feet. “You? I doubt it. You keep adopting weak things and coddling them. You do not see that the things you keep will one day devour you when your kindness runs out. If Strong does not do it, then you made him weaker.”

Valkyrie huffed, pushing into his space. If she could handle PH, who was bigger than a Super Mutant, she could handle Bonecrusher.

“I plan on dying of old age, not because someone I trust turns on me,” she said.

Bonecrusher put a hand on her head, forcing her to back up and get out of his way.

“Then, stop trying to be nice. To me, to anything. Learn to kill again.”

Val frowned, turning after him to ask what he meant, or maybe just yell at him, when Gage stopped her.

“Honey, you already pushed every one of that big fella’s buttons when you asked about his partner. Don’t go getting your spine ripped out over yer damn pride,” he said.

Tugging her arm out of Gage’s grip, Val glared at him.

“That’s the most you’ve said to me in two days.”

“Look, I’m sorry for that. I just wanted to wrap my head around this whole… thing. At least, what happened the other mornin’ in Goodneighbor.” When he didn’t elaborate, Val gestured for him to continue. The group had started moving on towards the Corvega plant, with its lights barely piercing the heavy red mists.

“So, why do you think-”

“It’s gonna make me sound crazy.”

“I’ve already been to Hell and back, Porter. What could you possibly-”

“I spoke to God.”

That made everyone in the group, except their Mutant companion, stop and look at Gage.

Cricket laughed. “Did he speak to you through the radio? I knew a guy who said he could talk to Zetans through his ham radio. He also did a _lot_ of chems.”

“Don’t give me that! It was a dream!” Gage said, exasperated. “In it, I saw Hell, and this voice, this _thing,_ whatever it really was, claimed to be God… after it showed me the place where the Executioner was being held.”

Val took Gage by the shoulders. “Look me in the eye and say that again.”

Gage pressed his lips into a firm line, but did as Val asked. “God spoke to me. Said it’s your and PH’s baby now and it’s sick of Valtiel’s shit. Showed me that PH was trying to escape. Last thing I saw before I woke up was him pullin’ an arm free of the big cross-thing he was wired to.”

Val felt the blood drain out of her face. If she really was pregnant again, somehow, she wasn’t just carrying PH’s child, but _God?!_ How?

Kid moved to stand beside Gage and Val, looking between them both.

“We can talk more about this at Corvega. We better git before Bonecrusher leaves us for dead,” Kid said, taking Val by the elbow to get her moving again.

Shaking herself out of her stupor, Val nodded and turned away from Gage.

_God is my child? Why does this shit always end up with me getting pregnant?_

* * *

The Bugle had been a bust. The archives had records of the tragedy at Dunwich, with the gossip column trying to point at cult activities, but it sounded like what Kent had said: just another wave of panic about nothing. Valentine left the Boston Bugle offices for the library, keeping his pistol at the ready while he traveled.

Sticking to the main roads, Valentine got to the Boston Public Library in a couple of hours, with the pale disk indicating the sun heading towards the horizon as he got there. Since he was a Synth, Nick reckoned he wouldn’t need to worry about camping out in the Library, and planned on staying there until he’d exhausted the entire collection, if he had to.

Unfortunately, Valentine ran into a little problem: he was not the only one staying there. Aside from a few refugees who got caught in the open and hid in the library for safety until daybreak, a small scouting team from the Brotherhood had also made a camp there, led by Proctor Quinlan himself. Quinlan and the Scribes in his command were also being escorted by two heavily-armed Knights, each one of them carrying a _very_ big gun.

It took Nick every ounce of his patience and negotiation skills to get in, but somehow, Quinlan saw the benefit to having a research partner who never slept. It was… fine.

“So, the General’s been to Hell, has she? What won’t that woman get herself into?” Quinlan murmured, going through Nick’s notes as if he had any right.

Nick bit his tongue and closed his eyes. He _needed_ to be able to stay longer. He still hadn’t found this supposed “forbidden basement,” but with Quinlan and his Scribes slowing Nick down, he didn’t know if he would get the chance.

“Remind me again, why you’re here? You folks should have cleared this place of any technical manuals a long time ago. Or are you worried you forgot the specs to an old toaster?” Nick asked, his resolve to withhold his comebacks failing him.

“Funny you should say that, seeing as you _are_ an old toaster,” Quinlan remarked, dropping the notebook on the table. “What are you _really_ here for, Synth?”

“It’s _Nick,_ nerd-brain, and I’m helping the General. Don’t know how many times I have to say it before it sticks to that Teflon-coated skull of yours.”

At least one Scribe snickered, earning a scorching glare from Quinlan. The Proctor leaned up from his seat across from Nick and started going through the pile of books he had thought _might_ be relevant. Most of them had turned out to be ghost stories or the history involving Salem’s infamous Witch Trials.

“Studying the occult, are we? Hell isn’t enough, you need to summon demons, do you?” Quinlan’s mouth turned up at the corners in a smug grin. “Tell me, has your agency taken up fortunetelling as well? Perhaps a crystal ball would make your missing persons cases that much easier to solve.”

Nick slammed his hands on the table and stood up, pushed to his limit by Quinlan’s acerbic wit. “Listen here you pencil-neck, four-eyed-”

“That’s enough!” One of the Knights pointed her minigun at Nick. “You’re here at Proctor Quinlan’s courtesy, Synth. Don’t forget that.”

Scowling, Nick grabbed his coat and hat. “I’m going outside, get some air that doesn’t stink of Brotherhood arrogance,” he said, storming off. At least the smoke break would help him cool down. As he leaned against the outer wall of the library, keeping his head low, Nick listened to the sirens blaring. Night was falling again; he hoped the sky would lose its bloody hue come the morning, but he doubted he’d get his wish. The longer this whole monster problem went on, the more it seemed like the world shifted into a new paradigm: the doors of Hell torn open, whether by magic or science reaching too far. Nick didn’t know why or how, but that part no longer seemed important. What _was_ important were how many people they could keep alive. And Nick still felt like it had _something_ to do with Valtiel, if not directly, his hands were in it.

Finishing off his cigarette, Nick stomped it out, just as the sirens ended. Night blanketed the Commonwealth, falling harder and faster whenever the sun set. As he turned to head back inside, Nick heard something behind him - not directly, but following the main road. Turning slowly, Nick scanned the area, trying to take in what details he could in the dark. Even with the Library having a little power to light the exterior, it barely punctured the consuming void.

But, _something_ was out there. At first, he thought it might be some of the usual things that came out at night, but he didn’t hear the inhuman screams or demonic hissing of Twinscreamers and Ferals. It sounded more like…

“Power Armor?” Nick murmured. Chancing a look over the barrier that framed the steps to the side entrance, he wished he hadn’t. Marching along the center of the street were Brotherhood Fallen. Some of them had their armor in pieces, revealing scarred, bloody torsos under where one weapon or creature had punched through, the frame itself looking like naked bones. Some, the bodies were just a mass of metal and skin that oozed out of the cracks and crevices, as if the Knight inside had continued growing, until the it was nothing more than an amalgamation of man and machinery. One of them looked like _Danse,_ but with his helmet missing and his armor scorched black. As the Danse-spectre turned its head, Nick saw that half its face was missing, exposing a Gen 1 skeletal Synth frame underneath. The flesh-constructed Fallen Knights appeared to be escorting ghastly Scribes with similar afflictions; some were without arms and faces, much like the Lying Figures, shambling between their larger counterparts. The general silhouette of a field Scribe was replaced on the Fallen version with fleshy representations of their uniforms: with darkly bruised skin imitating tactical vests and bulbous tumors imitated the caps that real Scribes wore.

Slowly, Nick started backing toward the door. He just got his hand on the knob when one of the Fallen Scribes stopped, bringing the entire troop to a pause. It swept its head back and forth, listening.

Nick had never been so grateful to be a Synth. He had no breath to hold, no heart to pound in the terrifying moments that passed as the Fallen Scribe scanned the area and started to move on. The other Fallen began to follow it, giving up on inspecting the Library when the door behind Nick opened.

“Are you coming back-Good lord!” Quinlan’s irritated voice jumped an octave when he spotted the parade of metal and flesh just barely shown by the Library’s exterior lights. Nick spun and shoved Quinlan back inside, covering his mouth with one hand.

Nick pinned the proctor against the wall, holding his mouth shut. He could feel Quinlan trembling under his fingers; in the dim light from Nick’s eyes, he could see the other man’s were wide with terror, darting between Nick’s face and the still-open door.

Holding his own skeletal finger to his lips, Nick signaled for Quinlan to keep quiet as the Fallen Scribe at the forefront of the pack hobbled its way to just inside the door. Nick turned and pressed his back against Quinlan, hiding the frightened man behind him. The Fallen Scribe scanned the room again, its chest opening and drooling acid onto the floor, making the vinylwood hiss as it dissolved. It moved right into the space before Nick; the featureless head pulsed and twitched, as if it were trying to sniff out signs of life.

Quinlan’s panicked breath behind Nick hitched - the Fallen Scribe started to turn in their direction. Not having time to draw his pistol, Nick grabbed the monster as it reared back to spray them with acid. Shoving his skeletal claw into the creature’s face, Nick just pushed into the mass of flesh, digging in as far as his fingers would go. His arm shook with the effort and his internal systems warned him of the danger of over-exertion. The maw in its chest opened in an effort to defend itself; it screamed in horrible pain. Using his free hand, Nick grabbed the thing by its shoulder and pulled in two different directions, rending the creature’s head from its neck.

“Holy shit!” Quinlan gasped, falling to the his ass behind Nick.

“We’re not done,” Nick said, going to the door and throwing the parts outside. He shut the door again and started to drag a table over in front of it. “There were more, and they might start to wonder where their friend got off to. We need to get back to the squad.”

Looking up from the floor, Quinlan took a good look at Nick’s blood-stained coat and dripping claw - then heard the sounds of heavy metal feet drawing closer.

“G-Good idea,” Quinlan said, getting to his feet.

Together, they returned to the Knights and Scribes with them. At first, seeing Nick covered in gore made the Knights turn their weapons to him, when Quinlan jumped between them and the detective.

“Please, I’m all right. Mr. Valentine just killed one of those monsters, but more are coming this way. We may have to escape through the other side of the building,” Quinlan said. “Or make a stand here, if we’re surrounded.”

“We can’t go out into the dark!” exclaimed one of the Scribes. “We’ll _definitely_ be killed out there!”

The Knight that had pulled her gun on Nick looked him over, then moved up to him.

“We can stand here, use the doors as a choke point. I don’t know you from Atom, but I know nothing withstands fifty rounds per second,” she said. “You, Quinlan and the Scribes get behind us, pick off anything that tries to worm around, got it?”

“Got it,” Nick said, pulling out his pistol. With him, the Scribes readied their weapons. Quinlan stood behind them all, looking helpless as the sounds of Fallen coming the doors began to get louder.

“Don’t you have a gun?” Nick asked.

Quinlan looked appalled. “What? No! I hardly ever go out in the field! I only did this time because-”

“Incoming!” shouted the other Knight.

“We’ll talk later!” Nick said, flipping around to assist as the two Knights spun up their guns, lighting up the library hall with a hail of bullets.

The roar of the miniguns was deafening. The Scribes and their laser pistols managed to wound some of the quicker creatures, keeping them back. Nick measured his targets, only having so many bullets for his pistol. He made sure every shot counted. It began to look like they would survive the night until one of the Fallen Scribes opened its maw wide, washing one Knight’s minigun with acid and melting the ends together. As the Knight lost his weapon, the Fallen Danse moved into the light. Nick could see that aside from the charred armor, his face was ashen gray and his remaining eye a milky white.

“Paladin Danse!?” someone shouted; it was hard to tell who with the sounds of gunfire.

The Fallen version of Danse grabbed the Knight who had lost his gun, pulling him forward by his chest plate. As they watched, the monster form of their lost comrade extended his arm. A cruel-looking sword extended from where his other hand should have been, and the Fallen Danse gored the Knight upon his blade.

“No!” screamed the other Knight, turning her minigun on the thing that had eviscerated her partner.

“Knight! Don’t lose yourself!” shouted Quinlan, as the monsters moved further in, now that the Knight no longer focused on the horde. The other Fallen Knights ripped the gun from her hands and her head from her neck. One of the Scribes stepped up and started firing more wildly, just to keep the creatures at bay. They were quickly overpowered by their Fallen doppelgangers, which piled on top of the fresh kill.

“Fall back!” Nick shouted, reaching forward to grab the last Scribe before she waded in as well. “We need to get out of here!”

“I have an idea!” Quinlan called, gesturing towards Nick. “Follow me!”

Nick pulled the struggling Scribe with him, not wanting to lose another one - they were down two Knights and a Scribe now, and that meant fewer guns to protect their odds of survival.

The remaining two followed Quinlan down - not downstairs to the exit - going out into the night _would_ be a death sentence if those things had surrounded the building, drawn by the noise. He gestured Nick and the Scribe through a maintenance door and slammed it behind them. Once they were all in, Quinlan wedged a barrel against it, hoping it would hold - and hoping nothing had caught them going this way.

“Where are we?” the Scribe asked. She pulled off her hood and wiped at her brow. Nick frowned - the girl couldn’t have been twenty years old, if that.

“Awful young to be out on shit like this, aren’t you?” Nick asked. The girl glared at him and put her cap back on, tucking her hood away.

“I’m eighteen. That’s enough for field work. Don’t know what the age limit is on fighting for your life,” she snapped back. “ ** **You**** seem to be a little _old_ to do anything but sit in a museum.”

“Heather, Nick, please don’t get into an argument,” Quinlan said, wiping his glasses on his coat. “We have a ways to go before we get to where we’re going, and I’d rather not do it running.”

“Since when am I ‘Nick’ to you, and not ‘Synth?’”

“Since you tore the head off one of those creatures in my defense,” Quinlan said, pushing between Nick and Heather, going downstairs. “Follow me.”

“So, where are we _going_?” Nick asked, taking up the rear in case anything got through the door. He’d rather be taken out giving Quinlan and Heather a chance to escape than risk the girl being caught at the tail end.

Pausing at the landing at the end of the stairs, Quinlan pulled Nick’s notebook out of his own coat pocket.

“We’re going to the basement you were looking for. If you’d asked two days ago, we could have been out of here,” Quinlan said, tossing the book over Heather’s head to Nick.

“I didn’t think you’d want a rogue Synth poking around places you weren’t,” Nick said.

“He’s right to think that,” Heather muttered.

Ignoring Heather’s remark, Nick tucked his notebook away, glad that Quinlan had taken it. If they couldn’t get back to the Library proper, he at least had the notes he’d made thus far.

“How did you know it’s even here?” Nick asked.

Quinlan chuckled. “Because, I am, as you said, a nerd-brain. I have a copy of the Library’s blueprints archived on the Prydwen. I memorized enough to know where to look, should I need it. Now, I need it.”

Heather looked between the two men she was with, an eyebrow raised. “So… what’s in this basement? If it’s a mini Liberty Prime, I say we wake it up.”

Quinlan chuckled, leading the way down the tunnels. As they left the primary maintenance section, they came a cross an area that looked like someone had buried an entire bank vault. It was dead quiet down there - if the monsters followed them, they would be easy to hear. 

“Unfortunately, nothing of the sort. Entirely banal, I’m afraid. More books. At least, that’s what’s supposed to be down here,” Quinlan said. “The blueprints labeled this section as the ‘administrative archives.’ I couldn’t find anything on the terminals in the main library, so we’re all going into this a bit blind.”

They stood in front of a massive vault door - not the Vault-tec kind, but definitely the kind a bank would use. Valentine hoped it was just as airtight, if there was anything worth finding inside.

Quinlan tried his hand at hacking the terminal beside the door. When his attempts failed, Nick volunteered to take a turn at it, getting the door unlocked in a few keystrokes. Quinlan shook his head.

“I’d be impressed if you were human,” Quinlan remarked. He stood back as the door swung open on its hinges, making a hiss as the air pressure inside changed.

Before Nick could make a comment back, Quinlan gasped as the vault revealed its hidden treasures: collections of old books and stored remnants of the past. Statues of bronze and brass, leather-bound tomes chained to the racks they sat upon and more. The Archive appeared to go deeper back than a simple bank vault, the rear obscured by shelves and boxes.

“Wow… this is…” Heather moved forward, reaching out to touch a statute. Quinlan pulled her hand away before she got too close.

“Proctor!”

“We’re not here for an art exhibit, my dear. We’re here to study,” Quinlan said. “Start with that shelf over there. Look for any information regarding the occult, cult practices, demons, and a being known as ‘Valtiel,’” he added, giving her a light push towards a collection of books nearby.

Heather gave him a pout, muttering “Yes, sir,” before going on with the task he had ordered.

“Invested in some light reading?” Nick remarked, pulling out his notebook again.

“Curious to know what you were up to,” Quinlan replied, giving a light shrug. “I seriously didn’t think you’d risk your existence in the Library by digging through old wives’ tales and superstitions.” He started on one of the shelves containing the chained books, making a soft “oof” when it was heavier than he expected it to be.

Lowering his voice, Nick leaned in near Quinlan. “And, the girl? She doesn’t act like a regular military brat.”

“Deducted that easily, did you?” Quinlan glanced toward where he had directed Heather; she didn’t seem to be paying attention to them. “Let us simply say that, in my last days as a Scribe, I made a most fortunate discovery of an _un_ fortunate young girl. She’s been with me ever since.”

“That’s… almost touching,” said Nick. “Where’d you find her?”

“Oh… town west of the Virginia Commonwealth region. Many years ago now.” Quinlan paused and shook his head. “Come to think of it, it was fairly foggy there, as well.”

“Yeah? You remember the name?”

Quinlan paused, thinking. “I believe it was called ‘Silent Hill.’”

* * *

Val sat with Gage in an office above Corvega. They had managed to bargain for shelter with the gang there when Bonecrusher presented them with the Brahmin for dinner. Considering how hard it was to get wild animals near the cities, they eagerly accepted his offer and let the group stay, with the caveat that they were to leave by morning.

“So, you gonna tell me about God?” Val asked, since they pretty much had that room to themselves. Most of the people stayed inside, where it was warmer and there were more doors between them and the monsters. Val wanted to get Gage alone.

Gage rubbed the back of his head. He really didn’t, but knew that making Val wait any longer was just going to make her more pissed off that he wasn’t talking to her. He put down his water ration and leaned back in the chair by one of the desks, hoping his explanation would make sense.

“It came to me in a dream. Told me I was to protect you until PH can find you. Showed me him all wound up in razor wire, crucified, strugglin’ to escape,” Gage said, the memory of the Executioner’s angry roaring flashing through his mind again.

“It wants you protected, but I dunno from what. Maybe just ‘til it can be born,” Gage said. “I told it… I don’t wanna watch you die again. I don’t think you’d make it next time.” Gage’s voice hitched in his throat and he turned away. He pulled off his eyepatch and covered his eyes, bottom lip trembling.

Val slipped off the table and crouched by Gage’s knees. She took his hand away from his face and held it up to hers, stroking over the back with her thumb.

“I’m not letting some half-assed deity kill me. I’m tougher than that.”

Gage snorted and wiped at his eyes. “I know you’d spit in God’s face if you needed to. What if it called you ‘mama?’”

Val shrugged. “I can ground God.”

Gage burst out laughing. Val smiled up at him. Getting up to her feet, she leaned over Gage and kissed him gently.

“I’m not going anywhere, sweetie. God or no God.” She kissed him again, deeper this time. Gage moaned into her mouth, cupping her face with his hands. He moved one hand down to the side of her neck; she pushed it down further, over her breasts and down between her legs.

“Mm, you wanna… here?” Gage breathed. He didn’t want to argue - they were alone, but if they made too much noise…

“We’ll be fine,” Val said, kissing over to his ear and tugging on the lobe with her teeth. “I’ve got you.” She pushed against his hand, trying to get some pressure against her clit. “I just want to take the edge off… I’m… hungry.”

Gage paused at the phrasing, the words recalling how she had behaved at the Cabot house. He sat back, looking at his wife’s face. The iridescent glimmer in her eyes was overwhelming, and he felt lightheaded.

“What?” asked Val, smiling at him. She pulled off her shirt while waiting; Gage tossed her bra behind him when she got it off. He didn’t just want to fuck her, he _needed_ to. His own shirt came off, and she ran her hands over his chest and stomach. She pulled at his belt; he tugged at her jeans. They tore at each other’s clothes until nothing was left.

Once she was undressed, Gage picked Val up and sat her on the edge of the desk. He dropped down to his knees between Val’s legs and started kissing her thighs. She settled one hand in his hair and pulled, drawing his face toward her pussy. He obediently slipped his tongue past her labia, pushing further into her cunt and making her moan.

“Good boy,” she moaned, leaning back on her free hand. She draped a leg over his shoulder, holding him in place.

Gage curled one arm around her thigh, his free hand spreading her pussy so that he could get in deeper. He tasted the juice there, smearing it up and down with his lips, brushing her inner thighs with his stubble. He pressed his tongue into her clit and tugged gently on the ring there. Val shivered, allowing herself to lay back while Gage ate her out.

Once she was down, Gage drew back, massaging her pussy with rough fingers before sliding them inside her, fucking Val with two while he rubbed at her clit, watching her writhe before him. His cock throbbed from neglect, but he wanted so badly to please Val, for her to forgive him for being silent… for not finding her sooner… just _anything._ Anything to remind her that she still owned his heart. He pressed lips over her clit and sucked hard, pushing his fingers in deep.

“Oh, fuck, Gage!” Val dug her heel into Gage’s shoulder as she came, fluid running over Gage’s chin and dripping onto his chest. He got to his feet and wiped his face with his forearm. Val sat up and pulled him into a heated kiss, sucking on his tongue and bottom lip.

“I need you inside me, _now_ ,” she commanded, leaning back on the desk again.

Gage stood between her legs, rubbing his cock over her went cunt, pressing the sensitive head against her clit to tease himself as much as her. Val dug her nails into his shoulders, demanding his service. As he slid his cock inside her, Gage groaned into another kiss with Val. He hiked her legs up over his waist, braced himself on one arm and started pounding into her. He let Val mutter all the filthy praise into his ear that she wanted. His own ability to speak felt… stifled. Like something locked down his throat, leaving him to nothing but gutteral grunts and moans as he fucked her. He felt energized, strong… almost… unstoppable. He was undoubtedly, unquestionably ****hers****.

_“...I give to you unreservedly, my body and my eternal soul. Whatever darkness may befall me, I will endure with you beside me.”_ Quinlan looked up from the book he was reading, an old journal stored within the Library vault. “Romantic, I suppose.”

With Nick informing them of what, precisely, he was looking for, Quinlan and Heather made the search much easier, working as a unit.

“Sounds like a wedding vow,” said Nick, an aisle away from Quinlan, studying another tome with growing frustration. He clapped shut the book on human autopsy he found, shoving it back onto its shelf.

“It’s a prayer to God, according to the writer,” Quinlan replied. “Unfortunately, this journal is not labeled with the original owner’s name.” He turned the red book over in his hands, looking for another clue as to who owned it.

“God?” Nick shelved the book he had started to pull down and joined Quinlan instead. He peered over the Proctor’s shoulder, scanning the passage with his eyes.

 _“ …guide our obedient and willing souls to the Road of Paradise…_ ” Nick huffed. “Sounds like someone was desperately trying to get on God’s good side.”

“If they were, they certainly had an interesting way of going about it,” Quinlan said. He flipped the journal back a couple of pages, showing Nick an illustration of a circle, drawn in red ink. “I mean… What do you suppose God would do with an _esoteric_ symbol like this?”

Nick froze, looking at the image Quinlan presented to him. It was the icon he saw carved into Valtiel’s shoulders in Val’s memories, he was certain of it.

“Maybe put it on one of their top men,” Nick said.

Val arched her back, holding onto Gage’s arms as he continued to fuck her, pounding her relentlessly against the desk. It had been so long since he’d really had her like this, a rough fuck on any given surface. Sure, there had been some fooling around at Cabot house, but that time was limited to whenever they were caught. They were alone, with only the company of night to watch them.

Reaching up, she pulled Gage down into a kiss, murmuring “mine” against his lips. He didn’t argue, just pulled back, picked her up and flipped her over onto her stomach. She hadn’t even gotten her hands under her when he grabbed her hips, slamming his cock into her cunt again and again, bottoming out just to pull back and drive in even harder.

“Hey, this seems relevant,” Heather said, getting Quinlan and Nick’s attention. They joined her at the back of the vault, where she held a book bound in black leather. The cover was embossed with silver leaf in a circular seal.

“It says here… lemme… oh… ‘ _A man offered a serpent to the sun and prayed for salvation. A woman offered a reed to the sun and asked for joy. Feeling pity for the sadness that had overrun the earth, God was born from those two people.’_ That… feels wrong,” Heather said, turning the book over to Quinlan so he could read it as well.

“God, born from humans? That’s certainly different than many other mythologies claim,” Quinlan said. He fanned a few pages forward, scanning for more information among the quasi-Biblical passages. _“Unite the body, Heaven unto Hell, Hell unto Heaven, for to the beasts, Heaven is where Hell is not, and for mankind, Hell is any realm without God. The attendant to God, Saint Valtiel, blesses the Ritual of Birth…Life and Death, united within the Veseel, will open the way to Paradise.”_

Nick frowned as Quinlan read the passages, concern growing as he parsed all the euphemisms within the text. “United within the Vessel… Life… _and_ Death…”

Heather sneered and looked away from the book she had found, as if it were talking about her. “That sounds gross.”

“The Vessel? Are they… talking about a woman?” Quinlan looked puzzled, trying to understand what it meant as well. “Wait, your notes, whose ‘case’ were they pertaining to?”

“Valkyrie,” Nick said.

“And… ‘Valtiel,’ the name in your notes… is someone she has encountered?” Quinlan asked, his voice beginning to shake. Nick nodded, at a loss for words.

“There are depictions here… of the Ritual of Birth, beginning with the Ceremony of Unity.” Holding up the book, Quinlan showed Nick the illustration: an etched illustration of three figures. The picture looked Medieval, possibly older, with a woman between two men. Each man had a figure, similar to the Greek letter Omega, drawn above their heads. One man, clothed in white - his symbol was inverted to the other man’s, a figure wearing black. The woman had an eight-pointed star above her head. Though crudely drawn, it was clear that all three were having sex.

Gage pulled Val back by her hips, sinking his cock as far down inside her as he could make it. As he came, a snarl ripped from his throat. He leaned his hands on the desk, his chest heaving as he gathered himself. Beneath him, Val swiveled her hips, milking every last drop of cum from his cock. She smiled over her shoulder at Gage.

“Very good,” she purred to him. “Now, get on your back. I think you’ve still got more in you.”

“Explain yourself, Nick,” Quinlan demanded. “Why are you researching this for General Valkyrie? What is she doing?” He shoved the book into Nick’s chest, advancing on him.

Heather put her hands on her adoptive father’s chest, keeping Quinlan from getting farther, but not able to stop the accusative glare in his eyes.

"I'm here trying to help a friend! So, why are _you_ out here, Quinlan? You never said what you wanted," Nick shot back. "I wouldn't think 'technical documents' would be that important right now."

"Because I had to! I dreamed of this library, this vault, every night for the last few days. I needed to be here!" Quinlan shouted, Heather having a hard time keeping him from charging at the detective.

“Why are you so worked up?” Heather asked.

“Because…!” Quinlan took a deep breath. “Because I found similar writings around the same time I found you, my darling. The people of Silent Hill had a string of mass murders, pre-war, much of it surrounding an apocalyptic cult and the rebirth of its God. It wasn’t until I found that a twin village in Maine had similar occurrences that I gave the notion of the cult any credence, and now we’re drawn _here_. Reading this…” he gestured with the black book, “It’s all coming back, my memories of that time. The place was chilling, and empty… but I could never get over this feeling... As if I were meant to find something important... Maybe a record of this Valtiel and his followers, perhaps to become a new disciple. Were it not for Proctor Gillespie, I may have."

“Dad, are you sure?” Heather asked, looking up at Quinlan in worry.

“As certain as I am of my care for you, dear child. I wanted to keep the documentation I found, as I had thought it… _called_ to me at the time, but my Proctor wouldn’t hear of it. Burned anything she considered drivel. The only memento I was allowed to keep was you. You became my 'something important.'” He sighed, pulled off his glasses, and rubbed at his temples. "I gladly traded those books for a chance to raise you."

Heather gave Quinlan a wry smile, shaking her head. “I think you got a good deal out of it.”

Nick looked down at the book in his hands. “Val went to Hell.” He moved backwards until he hit a wall, sliding down until he was seated. “I was connected to her during a memory recovery… This character, Valtiel, told her that she was going to have a child with…” He pinched the bridge of his nose, straining to remember the words exactly. “With an Executioner, some sort of monstrous man… and that he was letting her return to Earth.”

“Life and Death, united within the Vessel,” Quinlan said. “And here I just thought you were just being hyperbolic about Valkyrie's escapades. If that means she’s had her union with the dead, it stands to reason that the plan was to have her take a living partner next. I doubt a vital, young woman like the General could go for very long without bedding her husband.”

Heather knelt on the floor beside Nick, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Do you know where she’s headed now?”

Nick blinked, coming out of his stupor. He thought about what Gage had told him, prior to them parting back by the Boston Bugle. The Executioner had escaped. It was reasonable to deduce that Valtiel needed the three of them together to complete the Ritual. He didn’t want to believe it. Some part of him, perhaps his human core, hoped that it had all been some elaborate plot against Valkyrie, some sort of stage illusion to trick her mind for reasons he just had yet to discover. Giant roaches, even bigger lizards, Synths, teleportation… he thought he had seen it all. All of that had some basis in ****science**** , even though it could be called “mad.” But… real magic rituals? _God?_

Looking to Heather, Nick licked his lips, absent of any saliva to wet them.

“She’s going home.”

* * *

Out at Corvega, under a canopy of night, in an office unoccupied save for two people, the ritual carried on. Valtiel felt the icon connecting him to the Vessel burn bright. His adaptations to her body worked marvels in the living world.

She would bear God.

However, his plans required one last component, something to ensure the Vessel’s compliance. While he did not doubt the Executioner and her mortal husband would guard her body from any sort of external harm, he needed to ensure she wouldn’t do anything to endanger _herself_. He knew just the man for the job.

After assembling parts of other monsters as a host, Valtiel reached down into one of the many pipes surrounding his work room. He plucked a soul from the depths, drawing the man’s spirit out and into the organic machine Valtiel had crafted just for him. He didn’t need another Executioner going rogue. Kellogg had his uses, but was no soldier.

Instead, Valtiel chose the soul of her first husband, Nate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All direct or indirect references to Silent Hill and their characters here are me paying homage to the series by bringing them into it in some manner. Scribe Heather =/= Heather Mason, she just has her name as my tribute to SH3. If anything, they were destroyed during the War, and any remnants of the Order were completely dissolved. Don't worry, we're staying in the Commonwealth.


	6. Your Moving Temple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sanctuary. Where it all started.
> 
> Magdalen (noun): lost lamb, penitent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://64.media.tumblr.com/f40e5de929e74d0dea91c274fe8486eb/9eda4c67cfccb014-6c/s1280x1920/6c59f5eaebb6b6902f61165b2f11ba0d3477897a.jpg
> 
> a reference sketch for some particular character looks in this chapter

Sanctuary. He would find her there. He needed neither sleep nor shelter as he carved his way across the wasteland. Monsters bowed at his passing. Beasts fled at the sight of him. Braver things were cut down quickly, left to the scavengers. The red sky shielded him from the burning light, allowing for him to travel without rest, without suffering the sun. Sunlight was a bane to many of Hell’s denizens, and so it became obscured, weakened by his very presence when he crossed the threshold between worlds. Darkness followed where he walked, cold and comforting in its void. Hell bled through the trough he left in his wake. Rot and ruin were his only companions as he made his way to her, to Valkyrie. He did not need to _follow_ her trail - he simply knew the way.

Though they were physically apart, he felt her presence, as he had when she was bound to him in Hell. Though the rings they shared were gone, he still bore a physical reminder, a scar on his left hand; the only lasting harm she had ever inflicted on his body. Though relieved of its yoke, her being stolen from him had stretched his bond to Valkyrie into a fine thread instead of heavy chains. Any moment she reached out to him, whether consciously or not, sent a feeling, a fleeting sensation, a vibration of sorts - not unlike a spider plucking the web of a potential mate - across the connection. It called to him. _She_ called to Him.

As he traveled, he fed on her guilt. Another soul harmed by her own actions; the draught of remorse was like water to a man in the desert. He felt her heart swell with emotions - he plucked the bitterest and most hateful of them and dined on her rage. When his time would come to reclaim her, he would pull sweet words and filthy sounds from her body. He considered letting her husband live long enough to watch. If the mortal man showed adoration as a sacrament like Valkyrie did, he could even get his own turn at worship.

But, before all that, She needed to welcome Him. He could take from her - she knew that all too well at the beginning - but her reverence showed itself and she gave to him, willingly, consistently, and even initiated herself. He did not require her fear anymore. Instead, he took the offering she made of herself.

The Executioner needed only to present himself before her again. He was confident that she would greet him _warmly._

He found the gates of Sanctuary, the small settlement given an unfortunate name. The boundary of the river kept him from crossing the bridge and the humans behind it safe. It was not ****hallowed**** ground, but treated as if it was. He could feel Her essence seeping through the settlement, the faith of the settlers in her protective edifice forming its own holy space. How ironic, that _Valkyrie_ was no saint, and yet held the devotion of her people like one. Built before his time with her, the wall did not know him, and thus, he was seen as an intruder.

The shadows that followed him gusted into the barrier like smoke against stone, dissipating, harmless. The people inside would be spared - for the moment.

As he paced the border, looking for a crack, a shred of doubt in their security, he sensed another being, _inside_ the boundary. Stabbing his blade into the ground at the water’s edge, he gripped the edge of his helm and focused further in. Something else was inside, hiding among the humans. Not a living weapon like he was, it was entirely… _new_. It had its own bond with the town, that much he could tell at a distance, but who or ****what**** it was remained beyond his senses. However, there was a familiarity to it he could not quite place; he picked up on another thread, pulled taut, reaching beyond the boundary and… towards Valkyrie.

Something else desired to claim Her for itself. The mortal man he could abide. This… _thing_? Out of the question.

Taking up his blade once more, he moved himself to the center of the road before the bridge. She would not miss him there, and she would take him inside. He would deal with the interloper once he found it. Standing his blade in the asphalt, he gripped the hilt tight and kept vigil at the gate. The shadows of living night slipped away, falling back until it could follow him inside. Creatures from the mists would avoid his path for days, making her travel easier.

Every hour she grew closer, the thread binding them grew shorter, thicker, _stronger_. She was not very far when he sensed her body being used, taken in the cover of dark by her husband while He, _her_ Executioner, waited for her arrival. He had already ****lost**** another five years struggling to break free from Valtiel’s torture. Away from her, from Valkyrie. And for what? For daring to keep his ward longer than _Valtiel_ deemed necessary? His grip on the handle of his blade went tight, shaking in barely-managed anger. He had a decade with her - the husband barely had two mortal years. He did not hope, but he would _demand_ to know that the man, this… _Porter Gage,_ had treated her correctly in His absence.

As a kindness to her, he considered not making the husband suffer long, if Gage had failed to treat her as He defined it. The man’s soul was damned anyway, reeking of sins He could smell even at a distance. Without the salvation of penitence for his crimes, the man would join the Executioner’s ranks… eventually. His soul would be shaped and tempered by the fires of Hell, turning it into a weapon for Judgement, as all of them were.

A thought, a fleeting vision, crossed the Executioner’s mind. A trade, one soul for another, taking the life of the man and replacing his soul-- He shook his head, clearing the desperate _foolishness_ from his mind. Imagining Himself so small and frail again? Pathetic. Valkyrie had been made for Him in the present, to withstand his brutal power and wicked lov-- He shook his head once more _,_ roused himself of the lethargic state that crucifixion must have left him in. Another wisp of an idea, that… ****feeling**** he did not understand. It should _not_ have been important. She was made for his body, he was made for her Sins. That was all they were to each other.

For reasons beyond his comprehension, the truth hurt. He had been made to Judge her centuries before Valkyrie was even born. She was his purpose, his meaning- NO!

He _served God_ , enforced _her_ will, not Valkyrie’s, not any human! He suffered Valkyrie’s guilt and was made to Judge her on that alone!

And yet…

He felt the bond growing shorter, and shook his wayward thoughts from his mind. There were more important things to attend to. Valkyrie, his penitent, his supplicant, his _Magdalena_ \- she was coming to him. Fortunate, that she would be arriving soon. Though he was long-lived, the Executioner’s patience itself, was not.

Something was calling to her. Val could feel it as they left Corvega, and the feeling lingered as they passed through Concord. Expecting a battle, the streets of the town were vacant - the Lying Figures that had been haunting the area had all vanished. The only traces of their occupancy were places where they had spat acid; holes were cut through wood, stone and even cars they passed on the road. Every time Val gave pause, taking stock of the damage done, of the quiet that surrounded them, she felt a pull, like something was calling her to come home.

As they came upon the Red Rocket, the air shifted with the coming night. Fog thinned out, making it easier for them to see in the growing dark, but a weight still lingered without the rolling mists. Like the sensation of a coming storm, electricity filled the air, and the group - Val, Gage, Kid, Dogmeat and Bonecrusher - pushed closer together as they walked.

Just nearing the crest of the hill, a noise echoed through the nearby trees, a distant voice crying out.

“Bonecrusher! You have abandoned us!” The voice was deep and scratchy, the voice of an elder Super Mutant.

Lifting his head, Bonecrusher turned toward the woods, trying to peer through the bloody red fog.

“Skullkeeper?!” he called back, starting to peel off from the group. Val reached out and wrapped her hands around his thick wrist.

“Don’t! Wait…” she pleaded.

Bonecrusher hesitated, listening to Skullkeeper’s voice berate him from the shadows, accusing him of all sorts of things: abandoning his clan, joining the humans, calling him weak. He started to tug out of Val’s hand when the voice… changed. Skullkeeper’s words slurred off, turning to painful wails and groans until it matched the same sirens that had been used to alert people of the encroaching darkness. The night fell differently this time; instead of dropping down with the setting sun, it seemed to approach from all sides, boxing them in on the road until they were forced to turn on their various light sources.

Bonecrusher stared in the direction he had heard the voice, looking, to Val, like anyone who had lost a loved one and desperately wanted to see them again. When the siren’s wail took over, breaking up into a cacophony of noises, the old Mutant snapped out of his daze and turned to look down at Valkyrie. He tugged his wrist free, a look of uncertainty on his face.

“What was that?” he asked, glancing back at the forest.

“I heard rumors about… well, _something_ that appears in the woods. It calls out to people in the voice of a deceased person they knew. People have disappeared from caravans whenever they heard it. Better to stick to the road and try to ignore it,” Val said.

Gage chimed in, backing Val up on the story. “It’s true. One of our own, fella named Mason, caught a glimpse of it. Said it’s about as tall as the trees - tall, skeletal, ‘cept it ain’t got a proper head.”

“What does it have?” Bonecrusher asked.

“Said it looked like a siren tower. His got his crew to book it after that. They _still_ lost two in the process.” Gage paused, giving it a moment to sink in. “And believe me when I say this is a man who ain’t easily frightened. He’s run straight into fights with Yao Guai with nothin’ but a sledge and the shirt on his back before. I don’t think I’ve _ever_ seen him so damn spooked.”

Bonecrusher scowled. “I will not be taken by a noisy _tree._ ”He paused, giving Val a brief nod of appreciation. “But thank you, for keeping my head clear. We’re almost to your home.”

Val nodded, turning to the rest of the group. “Keep close. We get in, we stay in, got it? Even you, BC.”

Bonecrusher bristled at the nickname, but gave her another nod. “Very well. Better that I stay until morning anyway. I can’t see in the dark.”

Keeping close, they reached the peak of the hill, the Minuteman statue coming into view with the glow from their collective lights. Just as they began to pass it, another statuesque shape became highlighted through the darkness.

The Executioner stood in their path.

Bonecrusher was the first to pull out his weapon, training it on the monstrous man, before Val put her hand on his arm.

“You’re just going to waste your bullets,” she said, pushing his weapon down. “He’s been waiting for me.” She could see the Executioner nod just within her peripheral vision.

“For you? Another one of your strays, then,” Bonecrusher growled. He still put his gun down, but kept a wary eye on the masked man.

Kid audibly gulped, leaning back to take the Executioner in. “Is he… is he gonna hurt us?”

“If you don’t try to attack him, I don’t think he will,” Val said. She began to approach the Executioner, reaching her hand out. “Are you here to take me back with you?”

The Executioner tilted his head to one side, then loosed his white-knuckle grip on his sword. He put his hand under hers, hooking over and brushing his thumb over the backs of her fingers.

“Shit,” Gage gasped. He’d seen the thing roar and holler and rip itself to shreds on razor wire, yet, as soon as Val gave her hand to him, there was a shade of docility there - he believed what Val said. As long as they didn’t try to attack the Executioner, while Val was around, they were safe. He hated to think what the creature would be like if she came to harm. Gage was no fool; his estimation that Val had charmed this creature in some way appeared correct. They’d spent a longer time together than Gage and Val had, according to her experiences. It stood to reason that the creature, this Executioner, cared about her in some fucked-up capacity.

Val, meanwhile, moved closer, looking up at the monster in the light of her Pip-boy. She could see new scars on his much of his limbs and across his chest; his skirt was a ratty strip of leather, barely covering his legs, and there was a large, circular scar in the middle of his palm. Marks that matched what Gage had described: his being crucified in Hell.

“Valtiel made you suffer, because of me?” she asked, running her fingers over the wound in the Executioner’s hand.

“Honey, I understand the need to sympathize with the big fella, but we’re a bit stranded out here. Any minute, those things that like to hunt in the dark may find us out here gabbin’ and make a quick meal of, well, the squishier of the group,” said Gage.

The Executioner huffed and shook his head. Turning away, he pointed into the darkness. It wasn’t hard to figure out where he wanted to go - into Sanctuary itself.

Val peered into the dark, still feeling like something was pulling on her, an insistent tugging like when Shaun was excited to show her his newest gadget. She had expected the sensation to fade when meeting the Executioner again, but this was calling from within the settlement itself.

“Why do you want to get in?” she asked, resting a hand on the Executioner’s arm. “Are you going to hurt anyone there?”

Dropping his arm down again, the Executioner tilted his head once more; the situation was complicated.

“If you hurt anyone I care about-” Val began to say, when a loud clatter of wood and metal sounded from across the river. “What the hell?”

Grabbing her hand, the Executioner tugged Val in front of him, pushing her to lead the way as he picked up his sword and shouldered it. Behind her, she could hear the others following; Dogmeat whimpered at something ahead of them, keeping to the middle of the pack.

Val took a deep breath and started across the bridge. As she stepped on it, with the Executioner behind her, the wood started to crack and splinter, but instead of shattering under their feet, metal bars and grating shot up out of the water below. It grew and warped into a new bridge as they passed, filling in the gaps where the wood was parted. Barbed wire encircled the fence posts like ivy, with sharp spines gleaming in the dim light. The two street lights at the far end flickered and popped. Glass fell from the tops to the ground, seeding the dirt and becoming crystalline spines that glowed with soft firelight from within. The streetlights themselves smoked out into smoldering braziers, giving the gates a warm glow of flame.

The only thing truly ****amiss**** was that the gate at the end of the bridge was wide _open,_ when it would normally be barred shut against the coming night.

“Whoa…” Valkyrie swept her gaze back and forth, watching how the Otherworld’s hellish power seeped into the cracks, not destroying Sanctuary, but reinforcing its walls.

“If the gate was open, why didn’t you wait for me inside?” she asked, turning back toward the Executioner. He shook his head once. “Something kept you out.”

She looked back at the open gate, stopped at the very edge of the settlement proper, looking into the empty void ahead of her. “Be prepared for anything,” she advised, as she crossed the threshold.

The Otherworld resumed its creep as she entered Sanctuary. Vines of black spiraled up the mounts where turrets sat, growing into the machinery. They choked on the Otherworld influence, seeming to fight it until they stalled out and restarted. The running motors sounded heavier, growling as if alive when the turrets resumed their duty guarding the walls. More of the interior street lights had met the same fate as the ones outside: large spires of flickering glass surrounding them, the lights themselves ablaze. Sanctuary became cast in the warm glow of Hellfire.

“Wow…” Kid lowered his shotgun, taking stock of his new home, how it changed right before his eyes. “This is-” Kid’s voice cut off there as he dropped his weapon entirely. An assault rifle hit the ground shortly after.

Turning, Gage and Val looked behind them, to Bonecrusher and Kid. They had stopped moving, their arms limp and eyes glazed over. The Executioner stopped, scanning the immediate area around them. Dogmeat was even affected, wavering slightly on his feet.

“What the hell, PH? Let them go!” Val demanded, slapping her hand against the Executioner’s stomach.

Glancing down at where she struck him, the Executioner shook his head once.

_Not me._

Val frowned, looking toward Gage. “You okay, hon?”

“Aside from the fact that my son looks like a goddamned zombie, I’m just peachy,” he snapped. “Why ain’t we gettin’ hit like that?”

Val started to answer, when the Executioner turned her around and pointed through the firelight. Other residents of Sanctuary were standing around too, like dolls waiting to be played with. Danse, Strong, MacCready, Cait, Redeye, the Longs, Mason and his Pack, Sturges… Even Ada and Codsworth appeared to be affected - Codsworth was folded up on the ground like he had been reset. Ada’s arms just hung down in front of her.

“It got the bots, too?” Val said, feeling fear and confusion mounting further.

Beside her, PH held his blade out, moving to put himself in front of her and Gage.

The tugging sensation pulled harder on Val, so much that she stumbled into the Executioner’s back. He didn’t move, staring straight ahead of them.

“Baby, you all right?” Gage asked, helping Val to keep upright.

The Executioner grunted, getting their attention.

Peering around her monstrous bodyguard, Val gasped. Standing in the middle of the road, in the space between her house and the workshop, was Nate. Mostly Nate. He had been changed, twisted into something _other._ He approached, eyes dark, the hole in his forehead bleeding down and forming tear-track markings over his cheeks. Taller, nearly the height of PH, suspended in a framework of oil-slick steel, Nate looked like his nude body had been shaped into that of a sphinx. His legs stopped just above the knees, with a continuance into digitigrade stilts of sharp metal. His arms were supported on long tonfa blades he held in each hand, bearing the weight of large, bladed wings and a sharp spinal structure. His head was crowned with an ornate latticework of wires, sweeping behind his head and forming a halo of nails and screws. He was beautiful and terrible to look at.

“Hi, Honey! It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Nate smiled, teeth filed into sharp, predatory fangs. He prowled forward, a snaking tail of animated chain bobbing behind him.

The Executioner kept his sword before him, slowly moving to follow Nate’s path as he circled the three of them.

“H-hey, hon…” Val stayed between Gage and PH, one hand on the Executioner’s back and the other pulling Gage up behind her as Nate’s circling got closer. The chain tail behind Nate sported a number of rusty spikes, and drifted close to catching one of them as he moved.

“Valtiel give you an upgrade?” she asked, watching her dead husband as he prowled lazily by. He was at ease, putting the three of them on edge.

“Good guess, sweetie. You were always a smarter cookie than you gave yourself credit for,” Nate replied. He came to a stop in front of the Executioner again, sitting back on his haunches. His wings spread behind him, he tips of the longest “feathers” cutting into the ground.

“This reunion’s real touchin’, but why the fuck are you here?” Gage asked, pulling his hand out of Val’s to point his gun at Nate. “I sincerely doubt you came back from the dead to just see her.”

Nate nodded, tilting his head to one side. “Oh, no, you’re absolutely right. What would I want with a cheating, lying whore for a wife anyway?”

Val scowled, pointing at him from behind the wall of the Executioner’s body.

“I never cheated on you! You died! Til death did we part!”

Nate chuckled. “No, but you didn’t exactly _mourn_ me, either. Tell me, how long before you started fucking the ****freaks**** around here? One week? Two? Hard to tell, for me. Time in Hell is so much different. I’ve suffered almost _five-hundred years,_ watching you slut your way around Massachusetts.”

“Fuck you!” Valkyrie ground her teeth together, her fists balled up tight. She trembled in anger, hurt by Nate’s words. She had never seen this side of him before, and wondered if he was always like that or if Hell had changed him into a hateful creature before Valtiel got involved. “I’ve hardly been with anyone since getting thawed out.”

“But you _still_ ** _ **never**_** loved me!” Nate got up on all fours again. He lurched toward her, being shoved back by the Executioner’s sword against his chest. “You _hated_ our son! You _murdered him_!”

“I did what I had to! He was threatening countless-”

“Oh, _spare me_. I was a soldier, I ‘did what I had to’ and look where it got me!” Nate lifted an arm and stomped it back down, the blade breaking through the asphalt under him. “I did what I thought was right, and I went to Hell for it. My only solace is that you’ll end up there, too.” Sneering, he looked toward the Executioner. “Too bad ****your**** personal tormentor actually _likes_ you.”

Val took a deep breath and moved out from between PH and Gage. “I’m sorry. I should have said something - I wasn’t happy. I didn’t want to be married, I wasn’t ready to start a family. Then, it all just… happened. You were taking care of everything, and I just-”

Nate snarled. “Shut up. I don’t want to hear it. You _lied_ to me! I _loved you,_ honey, I really did.” The weeping blood from his eyes dripped off his jaw and onto the ground. “But now, I get to do what you didn’t. I’m going to raise _your_ baby.”

Covering her stomach, Val took a step back. “No.”

“Like _hell-”_ Gage started to interject, but Nate’s spiked tail whipped around, snagging him around the waist. He dragged Gage out of the group, lifting him off his feet and squeezing, driving the spines through his armor and into his gut. Gage cried out, trying to pry himself free.

“And _you._ You’re just the worst,” Nate hissed. “You two are absolutely right for each other.”

The Executioner lunged forward, bringing down his blade to cut the tail off and release Gage, but Nate was just that much quicker, and bounded out of reach like a kitten at play.

“Ah-ah-ah, too slow. But, don’t worry. Valtiel _needs_ you alive… for a little while, anyway.” Nate threw Gage on the ground; Val rushed over to him and helped sit him up while the Executioner lifted his blade from the new groove in the road.

“Why does he still need us?” Val asked, pressing her hand to one of Gage’s wounds. “I’m already pregnant.”

Nate was on his haunches again, watching them with a Cheshire cat grin. “Oh, you see, fucking you once or even a few times isn’t quite enough. They have to fuck you together. Not something I ****personally**** want to see - I’ve already watched you fuck other men and women up here and tell more people you loved them than I _ever_ heard from you - but, it’s necessary, to make sure God is born with the right… elements.”

Val shuddered and looked away. “I’m not doing it.”

“That’s what I thought you’d say.” Nate grinned and looked over toward their house - Valtiel stooped through the front door, carrying a tiny bundle in his arms.

God’s valet crooned at the blanket he held, letting a small hand grab at one of his fingers.

“Freya! Let her go!” Val screamed. She started to get up, but Gage held her by one arm, PH pushed her down by her shoulder.

Valtiel climbed up onto the roof of their house, cradling Freya in the crook of his arm. He perched on the gable above the door and crossed his legs, making a hammock of his apron for Freya to lay in.

Gage got up to his feet, legs shaking under him from blood loss. “Give me back my daughter, you ugly fuck!”

Valtiel snickered and shook his head.

“If you won’t do it, your little one will be a suitable host. I can take the fetal form of God from Valkyrie, and put it in Freya… when she comes of age, she will birth God in your stead, and you can be free of the burden - of both your daughter and having to bear a child again,” Valtiel said. “Of course, I would have to take her with me. Can’t risk that pesky parental influence.”

The Executioner looked between the two of them, Nate and Valtiel. Val followed Gage to her feet and put her hand on his arm, pushing his blade down.

“Don’t let him hurt my baby,” Val pleaded, her voice low so that only PH could hear her.

Nate laughed from where he sat.

“So, you see, sweetie - it’s you or her. And I’ve gotten to know you, the real you. You won’t let someone else take on a burden you can bear yourself. It’s why you stretch yourself thin, trying to atone, trying to make people happier. You’re the woman who asked for - _hah_ \- joy,” Nate said. “Your… filthy, lying, murderous boy-toy here… well, he never asked for his ****own**** salvation, _but…_ he figures he doesn’t deserve it. A real selfish way to ask for the salvation of others, but…” Nate shrugged. “It fits the criteria enough.”

“Don’t you get tired of talking?” Gage asked, taking deep breaths to distract himself from the holes in his torso. They weren’t lethal, but still burned every time he moved.

“I’m merely explaining your roles in this, since you’ve all been asking yourselves ‘why me? What am I doing here?’ Well.” Nate gestured at the Executioner with one of his arm blades. “Except for that… Pyramid Head. It knows its role.” Nate laughed, but not it was not the stable sound of someone who had all his marbles. “Funny, though, Valtiel just expected it to rape you, destroy your will and make you plead to escape, filling you with hatred. Instead, you do what you always do - charm some poor fuck into loving you so you can destroy them later.”

Val shook her head. “That’s not true.”

“You did it to me.” Nate’s smile turned into a scowl. “Don’t tell me you actually _care_ about this… thing! It hasn’t been human for hundreds of years!”

Val swallowed. She could see the Executioner turn his head toward her, however slightly. The unasked question hung in the air: did she love him, too?

“I do. It’s fucked up, but I do.” Val circled her hands around one of his arms. “I do love a lot of people instead of you, Nate. You just… _fuck,_ you bulldozed into my life and wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer! You loved me because you saw a broken woman in a diner and decided you could mold her into your perfect little housewife!”

Nate shrugged from where he sat, not denying it. “A woman with scars like yours never stood a chance at having a real relationship. I was doing you a favor, giving you a chance to be normal. I thought I’d fixed you.”

Val’s hands squeezed the Executioner’s forearm. He had barely moved, waiting for someone to strike or possibly for Val to give an order to attack. He was an anchor - she had realized the truth of her past while with him, came to terms with the fact that she had never been able to really love Nate. She had thought he didn’t deserve to die like that, but seeing him now, how he had the truth wrung out of him…

“You didn’t love ****me**** at all. You loved the _idea_ of me,” Val said, her eyes wet. “You just wanted me to give you a child so your fucking _parents_ would stop bothering you to settle down. I hate you.” She sniffed and wiped at her eyes. Gage put a hand on her shoulder; the Executioner backed up slightly so he was beside her.

Nate sighed. “I’m tired of this conversation.” He snapped his tail against the ground. The area where he had circled the trio lit up red. Intricate linework appeared at their feet, emblazing the ground with a large sigil.

“Time’s up. Complete ritual or let your little bastard be the mother of God. Your call, ****honey**** ,” Nate said.

**_**Don’t let them do this to you. Fight.** _ **

Val looked around, seeking out the voice she had just heard. It brought back memories, lifting the Great Knife and striking down Kellogg. Protecting what was hers. It was a womanly voice, calling to her from within. She looked over at the thing wearing Nate’s face, wounding her with Nate’s voice, then at Valtiel, remembering how he put his hands on her, made her feel filthy. He threatened Freya, had the entire settlement standing around like zombies - all the people she loved and cared about. Her heart was pounding, but not from fear. Her muscles tensed like coiled springs, causing her to squeeze the Executioner’s arm more firmly. Within her, she felt power growing, it just needed an outlet.

“I’ll do it,” Val said. She glared at Nate, then turned to Gage and her Executioner. “I’ll release God.”

Gage looked into Val’s eyes, studying her face for a moment before nodding. Beside her, the Executioner stabbed his sword into the ground, understanding her meaning without needing further instruction. He pulled off the remains of his leather wrap, casting it outside the circle. Kneeling beside Val, he peeled away her coat and started unhooking the clasps to her armor.

Gage leaned in and kissed her, taking her hands in his.

“He’s gotten under your skin.”he murmured. “You sure you can handle it?”

“If I can’t, do everything you can to take back Freya,” she replied.

Letting go of his hands, Val stood between them; The Executioner got her undressed while Gage stripped, leaving their clothing outside the sigil, giving them space to move freely. The Executioner sat on the ground first, holding his arms out to Val. She sat in his lap, resting her hands on his chest. Between a Raider and an Executioner, she felt safe.

“Hey there, big guy. I missed you, too,” she murmured.

The Executioner thumbed away the tears from her face - the tension in his movement conveyed that he would really _love_ to tear Nate a new one for making her cry.

Valtiel cackled from his place on top of Val’s home. “See? Compliance makes things go so smoothly. You humans are so resistant to the change of surface currents that you don’t notice how deep the ocean of reality goes. Let yourselves drown, get it over with quickly, instead of struggling.”

Valkyrie tightened her jaw and looked away from Valtiel. If she focused too much on him, she was going to lose it and her plan could fail. She caressed the edge of the Executioner’s helmet; his tongue snaked out to coil between her fingers.

Gage settled onto his knees behind Val, between the Executioner’s legs.

“Don’t leave me out, baby,” he said, doing his best to ignore the fact that they were going to be fucking in the middle of Sanctuary, literally before God and everyone. He bowed his head, kissing her shoulder. “I’m here for you, too,” he murmured, pulling Val around to give her a proper kiss.

Before her, the Executioner groaned, tugging at his helmet again, left out. Val pulled away from Gage and kissed the top and sides of his helmet. Seizing the opportunity, the Executioner’s tongue darted toward her mouth, slipping past willing lips.

Gage hooked his chin on Val’s shoulder, looping his arms around her waist. He watched the Executioner’s tongue slide in and out of his wife’s mouth and somehow, jealousy never entered his mind. Maybe it was fear that he could be broken over the Executioner’s knee like a twig - or perhaps it was an eagerness to join in, a curiosity to know how agile that serpentine appendage was.

As if reading Gage’s thoughts, the Executioner’s tongue left Val’s mouth to prod at Gage’s lips.

Val chuckled softly. “It’s a little strange at first, but if you relax your throat, it’s kinda hot.”

Gage’s lone eye flicked towards Val before he closed it, parted his lips and let the Executioner’s tongue in. He flinched at the sensations before relaxing, groaning a little as he became accustomed to the unusual kiss.

The Executioner shook with a hoarse laugh before retracting his tongue again. He moved it back to Val’s mouth, circled her lips and started moving lower, down her torso. Gage got the hint and started gently kneading Val’s breasts as the Executioner’s tongue slipped between her legs, teasing at her clit. Val moaned between them, writhing between their hands as PH placed one hand over her pussy, sliding two fingers up into her cunt. Between his own legs, the Executioner’s cock hardened; Val stroked him with both hands.

Gage made a choked sound of shock over Val’s shoulder.

“Ho-ly--”

Val giggled, turning to kiss Gage’s cheek. “It’s not going inside you… _yet,_ ” she promised, moving out of their hands and to one side. “You should slick him up for me.”

Outside of the circle, Nate’s tail flicked and scraped at the ground, watching another man and another _creature_ pawing all over his ex-wife. Worse, she looked _happy_ with them, happier than he’d seen her when they made love. Or ever. A low growl resonated in his chest. He wanted to dive in and tear them apart, but since he was under Valtiel’s command, he could do nothing to them until the ritual was complete.

Gage’s face turned a deeper shade in the warm glow of Sanctuary’s ambient firelight. He moved a little closer to PH, kneeling between massive, powerful thighs. To say he was intimidated was an understatement; the Executioner’s cock was huge, bigger than any he’d had, even when Val introduced him to a few “toys.”

Sensing her husband’s hesitation, Val put a gentle hand on Gage’s shoulder. “Don’t try to take it all in at once, sweetie. You’ll break your jaw. I… I can handle it.”

“You can?”

Valkyrie nodded. “The longer I’ve been in contact with PH, the more I’m remembering. I was dead. Valtiel remade my body, but I never figured out why. He turned me into a vessel - and made me able to bear God… by being able to handle the big guy.”

The Executioner raised a hand, taking Gage by the throat. Gage grabbed at the massive wrist, panicked at first until he realized the Executioner wasn’t going to strangle him. Pulling him forward, the Executioner pushed his thumb into Gage’s mouth; Gage reciprocated by sucking on the thick digit, groaning as he had to adjust once more.

“Good boys…” Val praised. She ran a hand down Gage’s chest; the Executioner’s free hand followed. Gage shuddered, popping his eye open a crack to watch. He felt the large, calloused fingers of the Executioner stroking his cock - just the sensation of being touched by someone literally twice his size made Gage’s hips snap to meet the massive hand. He groaned around the thumb in his mouth, biting the tough pad without doing any damage.

“Hey, don’t get too excited, sweetie,” Val teased. “It’s a little scary at first, but he _can_ be gentle. When I want him to.”

Gage pulled the Executioner’s hand away from his mouth. Already his breathing was heavier, his face hot and his dick hard.

“Was it like this for you?” he asked, panting.

Val shook her head. “Oh, no, he was much worse back then. He was meant to torture me…” Val stroked a hand lovingly up the center peak of the Executioner’s helmet. “But then I realized… he and I were a lot alike. We’re monsters.”

Gage gulped at Val’s words, watching the Executioner lean into her touch, tamed and mollified by his wife. He wondered if it was _genuinely_ her doing, or if he simply obeyed the thing inside of Val. His thoughts did not last very long; Val placed a hand on the back of his head and pushed him down.

“Give it a try,” she said, guiding him toward the Executioner’s cock. “I’ll be right here, with you.”

Gage nodded, blowing out a nervous breath. The cock head glistened with precum. He counted _twelve_ piercings running along the veiny underside, unable help but wonder what that felt like, sliding up into one’s body. The hint that Val might want to see him try made his cock twitch. Bowing his head, he flattened his tongue, licking the Executioner’s cock slowly. He tasted sour and salty, not entirely unexpected. It could have been much, much worse. Relaxing slightly, Gage circled his lips around the head, taking just that much into his mouth. Val was right - if he took much more, he’d be hurt.

Above him, the Executioner sighed, the sound like a rumble of distant thunder, or the purr of a very large cat. Gage chanced a look up; all he could see was the carved, muscular torso, shaded by the damned helmet. He pushed away thoughts that he would be in the same predicament one day and began to bob his head. Beside him, Val reached in, stroking the part of the Executioner’s cock Gage wouldn’t be able to reach. Above him, he felt a large arm settle onto his back, thick fingers curling and scraping against his spine.

“You’re doing real good, sweetie. You too, big guy. I know you wanna rip into him and you’re being _so patient_ …” Val’s praise continued. “Get him nice and wet for me, so you can fit in there too.”

Gage’s response was a low hum in his throat. The Executioner growled at the sensation, his cock twitching in Gage’s mouth. Gage pulled back enough to press his tongue into the sensitive slit, earning him another snarl of approval. He could see the Executioner’s chest heaving, felt the hand on his back tense up and scrape blunt nails against his skin - the monster was doing everything in his power to not skull-fuck Gage while Val was right there, he was certain.

“Okay, go easy on him. He _does_ have a limit,” Val said, pulling Gage out of there before PH got too worked up. “And he _will_ rupture your throat if you push him too far.”

Gage sat back, staring, eye wide and mouth slightly agape at the thought. Val’s frank description was harrowing, but believable.

“Got it. Now what?” he said.

Murmuring to the Executioner, Val ordered him to lean back on his palms. The massive man did so, his cock standing freely from his hips. Gage licked his lips, mouth watering a little. He could examine that desire later, when they weren’t on a timetable.

Val climbed into the Executioner’s lap again, laying her back against his chest, using him like a muscular lounge seat. She spread her legs and began to finger herself, smearing wetness all around her labia.

Gage tried to not feel insecure, seeing the Executioner’s cock compared to his wife’s body. He had to remember - he was the only one of the three of them that was still completely human. Taking a deep breath, he got the sensation of being watched, not from the obvious characters outside the circle, but from the Executioner himself.

 _Don’t,_ was the feeling Gage got, a command, feeling like it had been breathed into his mind by an outer force. An image entered his thoughts, an outside view of Gage kissing Val, along with the sensation of agony, of an inability to participate - and Gage understood. He gave the Executioner a slight nod while Val got up on her knees and started to sink down onto massive cock.

Moving closer, Gage circled his arms around Val’s waist, steadying her descent.

“Easy now, darlin’. I got ya,” he said. He kissed her tenderly; Val replied with a soft giggle that turned into a moan against his lips as he eased her down. Behind her, the Executioner inhaled sharply. He leaned in a little closer, snaking his tongue in between their lips, trying to “kiss” the both of them at once.

Val smiled, breaking the kiss and leaning back, reaching behind herself to pat the Executioner’s mask.

“I know, I know,” she said. “Hold me so Gage can join.”

Nodding, the Executioner grabbed Val’s thighs and spread her legs again. His massive cock almost disappeared completely into Val’s body, but he pulled her up to give Gage space to slide his own dick in. Gage moved into the offered space, guiding his cock until he couldn’t push any further. Val moaned and arched up, wriggling between the two of them.

“Ooh, I am _stuffed_ ,” she said, grinning at her own joke.

Gage groaned and pressed his forehead into hers; above them, PH huffed, shaking his head.

“She kill you with her puns, too? Good to know.”

Unable to help herself, Val’s smile stayed in place. “Hey, if the Ritual fails, at least we go out with a bang, righ-AH!” The Executioner cut her off by thrusting hard into her cunt.

“Everyone’s a critic,” Val grumbled. PH coughed under his mask, his own laugh just a sharp grunt.

Gage tried to smile, hoping that whatever Val had in mind with God would actually work. If it didn’t, they were all in real danger. Trying to bring the focus back to what they were doing, Gage cupped Val’s jaw, bringing her into another kiss.

Picking up on the signal, the Executioner scooped under Val’s legs, lifting her up slowly and sliding her back down. Gage followed suit, pushing up as the Executioner’s cock pulled out, ensuring that Val’s cunt was full either way. She wrapped one arm around Gage’s shoulders and gripped the Executioner’s wrist with her free hand. Gage leveraged himself with his hands on one of the Executioner’s shoulders for balance.

Words escaped her as the both thrust in and out, neither letting her stay empty for long. Val could hear the Executioner panting behind her, felt Gage tensed up and focused in front. They had figured out a pace, giving Val no mercy as she simply let the pair of them take over, fucking her through several orgasms of her own while they showed no signs of stopping on either side.

The world fell into a dizzying whirl of firelight and electricity. Above Sanctuary, clouds rolled in, lightning dancing across the sky and penetrated the black high above. The ground trembled underneath the circle, with its soft glow burning brighter as the Ritual reached its apex. The citizens standing around were unaffected, swaying with the quaking earth beneath their feet.

Nate got up on all fours once again, trying to steady himself as the ground roiled and rolled beneath him, as if it were a horse trying to buck him off. The houses of Sanctuary shuddered and rattled. Loose objects fell from shelved interiors, but the buildings themselves stayed standing.

Looking towards Valtiel, Nate called up to him.

“Is this supposed to be happening?”

From his perch, Valtiel barely held onto the roof of Valkyrie’s home, the building shaking violently under him. He heard Nate call out to him, but his focus was on the Ritual happening in the center. Unperturbed by the earthquakes, the Executioner grabbed the pair of mortals and flipped over with them both. Gage was pinned under the Vessel, she under the Executioner. They resumed intercourse, with the Vessel uttering filthy praise at her companions in gentle tones. He had expected it to turn violent, with bloodshed and jealousy. Instead, some laughter was had at Gage’s expense, with more smiles, more sensitive touches…

“NO!”

Valtiel started to climb down from the rooftop. Lightning crackled in the air above him, and he lost his footing, crashing to the ground. The disguised Mumbler he had bluffed Valkyrie with stumbled away from Freya’s stolen blanket, dazed from impact.

As Valtiel gathered himself, he got to his hands and knees, struggling to gain purchase in the dirt. He looked up, watching the Ritual finishing.

The Executioner let out a roar as he came, Gage below him choking out a pleasant sob. Between them, Valkyrie arched her back, the electricity in the air gathering above in a circle to match the one on the ground.

**__ **

**_**Mother… do you let me in?** _ **

**__ **

Valkyrie, riding the high of another orgasm between her husband and her monstrous lover, opened her eyes. She could feel rapture coursing through her body, but all she could hear was the voice - God’s voice, as it had been the whole time.

“Yes,” she said, watching lightning from above shoot down from the clouds and strike her in the chest.

The Executioner pulled Valkyrie back just enough, breaking her contact with Gage before he was electrocuted on the spot. The strike blasted him away, leaving the Executioner on his back, just outside the circle.

Gage gathered his wits and rubbed the blinding flash from his good eye. He looked up - _way_ up - to where Val was not sitting, but standing in the middle of the circle. Her body crackled with electricity, and a circular pattern appeared on her stomach, much like the one the Ritual had been centered on.

Though he felt the woman he loved in this new creation standing before him, it filled Gage with an awe and terrible fear at her sublime countenance; he knew it was not just Val alone in there. Great wings of oil-black feathers reached out behind her. She stood some nine, maybe ten, feet tall. In one hand was a giant spear of twisted, gleaming metal. Her other arm bore a shield with a large symbol emblazoned in brilliant red, a sign Gage remembered in the moment that Val had etched into the stock of her sniper rifle, Mjolnir. She was not armored - rather, metal erupted from her skin, large spikes protruding from her limbs and shoulders. A crown of iron spikes sprouted from her skull shining with blood. Her eyes, normally blue, glowed brilliant white.

Gage gulped, feeling a word come to mind as he looked upon the thing that was his wife: _Valkyrie._ Except, this time she was a real, tangible, warrior for for the dead. He scrambled to to retreat, escape the burned-out ring on the ground as this new Valkyrie stepped over him and towards the monster form of her ex-husband.

Just outside the circle, the Executioner rolled over onto all fours and got up again. He grabbed his sword, advancing on Valtiel, who managed to pick himself up from the dirt.

As Valtiel got to his feet, the Executioner seized him by the throat and pinned him to the exterior of Val’s house, just above where his feet could reach the ground.

“Release me, thrall! You have done your part. I even allowed you _more_ time with her! Are you such an ingrat-” Valtiel’s words choked off into a pained gargle as the Executioner thrust his sword through Valtiel’s gut, pinning him to the wall of Val’s house like a bug.

Valkyrie advanced on Nate, who backed away on unsteady limbs. The spear in her hand gleamed bright silver, despite the golden glow of Hellfire surrounding them.

“H-hey, hon… that’s a new look,” Nate said as he backed away.

Valkyrie’s wings spread out behind her, feathers ruffed in a full threat display.

“Sweetie, we need to talk,” she said, her voice deeper, echoing with the voices of a thousand slain. She struck the ground at Nate’s feet with the spear, sending up a jolt of electricity. “I want a divorce.”

Nate snarled, rearing back on his hind legs. He lunged forward, thrusting both blades out; Valkyrie twisted and moved between the pair of them, checking her shoulder into his chest. Nate closed his arms around her and pushed off the ground. Giving a flap of his bladed wings, he pulled her into the sky.

High above Sanctuary, Valkyrie struggled to get free of Nate’s arms. She turned and fought his grip. Seeing no other way out, she head-butted him, driving the iron spikes of her crown into his face. Nate roared with pain and loosened his grip. Valkyrie shoved him off and took flight with her own power. Circling around him, she struck out with the great spear, jamming him through the stomach.

“Fuck you,” Nate spat. He took the spear in hand, letting the blades dangle from his arms as he flipped them both around until Valkyrie’s weight pulled the spear free again.

“Already did that, and look where it got us,” she replied as she caught herself on the wind, holding herself aloft.

“I never enjoyed your crude jokes. Very unladylike.”

“Good!” The atmosphere around Valkyrie crackled with more electricity. Only a short time left. She pushed up into the air and brought the lance overhead, seeking to drive it into Nate’s torso again. He dodged, forced to land before he leapt up, arcing over a house and up the hill, towards Vault 111.

Valkyrie gave chase; she unstrapped her shield and threw it like a Frisbee, striking the back of his head with a skull-splitting CRACK! The latticework halo at the back of his head shattered, raining nails and screws onto the earth. Nate tumbled onto the ground, dazed from the blow.

Landing near his prone form, Valkyrie raised her spear up as Nate fumbled to roll himself over.

Looking up at his ex-wife, he spat blood at her. “Do it, if you hate me that much. We’ll still be in Hell together in the end.”

Valkyrie frowned. “Living with you _was_ Hell.” She stabbed him through the chest with the spear, driving it into the ground under him. “I’m sorry I didn’t leave sooner. We were terrible for each other.”

**_**Now it ends.** _ **

Holding Nate against the ground with her lance, Valkyrie held the pole end upright and bowed her head as lightning struck the spear. It poured through their bodies, burned them both from the inside out, sending a powerful white light into the sky that cut through the dark.

* * *

Across the Commonwealth, the gigantic bolt of lightning could be seen for miles, striking the reddish glow emanating from Sanctuary. Creatures came to a standstill, waiting, watching. Even in another section of Commonwealth forest, a siren-headed monstrosity stopped patrolling for its dinner, quieting its own bizarre voice to listen.

Diamond City lost power. The Castle’s Radio Freedom fell silent. Nuka World went dark. Goodneighbor was still. Settlers, normally too scared of the night to leave their homes felt compelled to go outside and play witness as the thunder rolled and roared overhead, all eyes drawn toward the crimson sky. The Prydwen’s hull reflected the brilliant flash all the way at the airport.

On the Prydwen’s docking bridge, all Brotherhood personnel had gathered when word of the strange light across the Commonwealth went through the rank and file. They crowded at the railings, even Arthur Maxson staring across the void with bated breath.

Scribe Heather held onto her father; Quinlan let out a shaky breath.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, hugging his daughter tight. “Don’t fear…”

Just outside his front door, Jack Cabot stood between his sister and Edward. He gripped their hands, chancing a look to either of them as the rumbling slowed, quieted.

At a window of the old Statehouse, Hancock lifted a bottle of whiskey to the storm.

Nick Valentine, Piper, Nat and all the other citizens of Diamond City gathered at the Wall. Geneva called for everyone to remain calm, but no one was in a panic. They all stared at the sky, where the glow signaled a shift in the atmosphere.

“Nick, any idea what that is?” Piper whispered.

“I have a feeling it’s our mutual friend, Val,” he replied. “I hope this means it’s over.”

* * *

Gage sat up from where he had fallen. He rubbed at his good eye, blinking out the dust from the impact cloud that rolled through Sanctuary from up the hill. Ash and debris drifted like snowfall. The firelight around him flickered in and out from various lamp posts still lit. Around him, he could see the bodies of Sanctuary’s residents, all collapsed in the dirt. The quiet town was unsettling, and furthermore - what happened?

He had seen Valkyrie and Nate fighting, flying, sweeping into the sky and up the hill. There was a flash of light, a great boom of thunder, and then he was picking himself off the ground. Getting to his feet, Gage ran toward his house, past Valtiel still pinned to the exterior. He barged into the kid’s rooms, and there they were: Shaun laid in his bed, asleep as if under a spell - none of the storm outside nor the battle of monsters had woken him. Freya, the real little girl, laid in her bed. Gage reached in and picked up his daughter, cradling her against his chest. She snuffled at the interruption to her sleep and settled back in, her head on Gage’s shoulder. He sobbed with relief and kissed her forehead.

God had been wrong about one thing: He feared losing Freya as much as he feared losing Val. That she was alright, undisturbed by the goings-on outside, brought tears to his eyes.

 _“Thank God…_ ” he thought, pausing to reflect on the irony. “You wait here, princess…” he murmured, settling Freya back into her crib.

Returning to the outside, the first person he ran into was the Executioner. Clad in his own wrap again, he held out Gage’s jeans to him.

“Heh, thanks for that,” Gage snorted at the thoughtful act. Stepping back from the door, Gage pulled his pants back on before he went to check on Kid. Other settlers were picking themselves up from the dirt, rubbing their heads and voicing their confusion as to what happened, why was Sanctuary a mess, and who the _hell was that giant man?_

Keeping close to Valkyrie’s house, the Executioner waited, guarding Valtiel’s stuck form.

Gage jogged over the broken asphalt toward his son, wrapping his arms around Kid, dragging him up.

“You’re alright,” Gage said, holding onto his boy.

Kid returned the embrace with a confused expression. “What hit me? I was lookin’ around and then it’s like my brain shut off.”

“I’m not fully sure, but Val… wait…” Gage turned from Kid, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Anyone see Val?” he shouted.

Residents turned and looked at each other. They started searching, scanning, calling around Sanctuary for Val.

“There!” Bonecrusher pointed, having spotted her crossing the footbridge at the back of the settlement.

Coming up the path were Val and Nate, both returned to a naked, human form. A third person, an unknown young woman clad in a flowing red dress walked with them toward Sanctuary. Val and the young woman had their arms around Nate, supporting him as he limped up the path. His body was bloody and beaten, as was Val’s, but she appeared better off than he.

Gage was off like a shot as he ran to Val, who let Nate go to accept the impact of her husband’s fierce embrace. She laughed as he kissed her over and over, grateful that she was alive.

“Mm-Ga-Gage!” Val chuckled against his lips. “I was worried for you, too. Are the kids okay?”

Gage paused to reply with "yes" before planting another kiss on Val.

Beside them, Nate sighed. “That should be me,” he murmured, sullen.

The young woman patted his shoulder in sympathy. “You didn’t love her right. You know that now.”

Gage let Val go enough to register the girl supporting Nate. She looked to be in her teens, perhaps fourteen or fifteen. Her hair looked red, her eyes different colors, but the exact shades indeterminate in the dull glow from Sanctuary’s firelight.

“Who’s this now?” Gage asked.

The young woman smiled to Gage, tilting her head as she looked up to him.

“You should know me, Porter. I am God.”

“You’ve _got_ to be shittin’ me."

Val chuckled and patted his chest. “Yeah, no, sweetie. That’s God. Kinda.”

The young woman looked up at Val, smiling still. “You will believe me one day, mother.”

Val frowned. “Ugh, don’t call me that. I’m not really-”

“You’re closer to one than I’ve ever gotten,” God said, tilting her head the other way.

Gage cleared his throat, looking at Nate. “And what about him? Is he alive? Dead? Somethin’ else?”

“Oh no, he’s still very much deceased,” God replied, unbothered by Gage’s questioning tone. “The dead merely walk the Earth easily now. He will return to the Otherworld soon.”

“Uh huh.” Gage rubbed at his eyes. “This is too much.”

“You are right, Father. You should rest, attend to my sister. Things will be clearer come the morning, I promise,” God said. “I will take care of Nate and Valtiel.”

Val grabbed Nate’s arm, pulling him from God’s grip. “Don’t hurt him anymore. He’s been through enough.”

“Oh no, he still has all the deaths he caused in the war to atone for,” God replied. “And for hurting you.” As she said that, lightning crackled across the overhead clouds. “But, if you wish, I will consider lessening his sentence when I return him to Hell.”

“If that’s the best you can do…”

God gave Val a bow of her head. “I’m only considering it because you’re my mother, and because my own valet acted beyond my wishes. Speaking of…” She turned toward Sanctuary. “I must collect him. If you will,” God said, handing over guidance of Nate to Gage as they continued to Sanctuary.

Back in the settlement, the residents milled around, assessing the damage done, whispering and pointing out the large guardian standing vigil at Valkyrie’s house. The lanky creature pinned against it was also questioned, though Valtiel snapped and hurled invectives at the humans ogling him.

“Away from me, you insects!” Valtiel screamed. He kicked and tugged at the sword in his chest, unable to pull himself free. The humans around him muttered about his appearance, trying to guess his nature, and that of the masked creature watching him.

“Pardon me,” said God, approaching the back of the crowd. “I must reach my attendant,” she said, her voice carrying enough to part the gathered residents and give her space to pass through.

As God approached, the Executioner fell to his knees immediately, prostrating himself before her, his head bowed into the dirt.

“Please rise, Father. You, my most loyal creature,” God said. She touched his shoulder gently, bidding him to stand. “I will see to you shortly.”

Valtiel stopped struggling as God approached, looking down from where he was pinned.

“My lady, you live - I am so pleas-”

“Silence.” God’s command made the earth tremble. “You gave yourself to madness, could not wait for a supplicant and instead tricked my Mother into being a Vessel. I am disappointed, Valtiel.”

“My lady, please, I could not bear-”

“I said, be _silent_.”

Valtiel’s begging voice cut off; he raised a hand to his throat, his voice taken from him. He fell limp around the blade, all fight gone out of him.

God reached up and removed the Great Knife, pulling it out of the side of Valkyrie’s house with a terrible scrape of metal. Valtiel collapsed onto the ground in a heap. She raised the handle to the Executioner, who took it with a bow of gratitude.

“Christ, PH, did you have to bust up my bathroom?” Val called. All heads turned toward her at the back of the group. Val, Nate, and Gage stood back, watching everything.

Val frowned. “What? He did!”

Following the brief silence, God began to laugh. As she did, the red haze receded from Sanctuary. Mists and fog parted, the skies clearing. Stars, unseen for months, began to show up in the comfort of blue-black night. A crescent moon hung in the sky, easy to see with the fog lifted.

“Wow…” Kid gasped, looking up. “Been a while since we’ve seen those…”

God glanced up as well, still smiling. “You’re welcome.”

Val turned to say something else to God, but in the moment everyone had taken a glance to the stars, she, Valtiel, and the Executioner had vanished.

Gage stared at the space God had occupied, then glanced to Val and Nate.

“What happens now?” he asked.

“I think we rest,” Val said. “Nate, I’m sorry-”

“No, hon, I’m sorry,” Nate replied, leaning against his ex-wife. “You’re right, I did just… barge in and take control.”

“I should have stopped us sooner,” Val said back. “I just thought… that I had to be a normal woman. I just let it happen.”

Nate nodded, his voice soft and quiet. “I should… I don’t even know what’s going to happen to me. Is… is that really God?”

“Yes and no,” Val said. She put her arms around Nate, giving him a hug. “It’s complicated.”

Nate hugged her back, bowing his head to her shoulder. “I should have loved you better, let you go when you needed me to. You would have been happier.”

“Maybe,” Val whispered. “Maybe not. It’s in the past. Can’t change it now.”

“Yeah…” Nate let Val go, backing away from her. “I think that’s what we both needed,” he said. His form began to dissipate, slowly breaking up and fading away. “See you.”

“See you…” Val rubbed at her face. The guilt of not loving him was gone since confronting him, realizing the truth - that they had never been happy together, only faking their relationship for the sake of normalcy. It still hurt, what he had said, but Val felt like it had all been twisted, Nate’s anger and pain amplified by Valtiel for his own plans.

For now, at least, that part was over. She was so tired. Pulling Gage into the house, Val brought him to their room. She fell asleep, holding Gage close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took me a while. I wanted to give it a good climax.


	7. One Chance, One Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> End of the Road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Magdalena "official" playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7lKute1ktPVpwKpX1lI8fB?si=TLdT-TtATVm8j3OcxLHCNw

_“Hey, you out there listening! You’re tuned in to Sanctuary Radio. Yeah, we’re still alive. I’m sure you’re all wondering just what the hell went on out here, the massive blast of white light and all that… Well, don’t you worry, because you’ve got Redeye, the master of storytelling, here to let you know how it all… went… down.”_

Redeye’s transmissions from Sanctuary put a lot of spin on the events as recounted by Val, carefully edited for explicit content. God, the Ritual, the Executioner’s exact role were all cut, turning the battle in Sanctuary from a fight between ex-lovers to one of heroism, a triumph over some mysterious “great beast” that Val had been hunting all along. Redeye’s flair for the dramatic gave the people a story to renew their hope.

However dark the night, morning still came, and with it, opportunity.

Behind Sanctuary’s walls, few could remember all that happened. Most had been hypnotized by Valtiel’s influence well before they left their homes, only able to recall that they were suddenly outside at night without recollection of even getting out of bed that morning. Even the inorganic Ada and Codsworth couldn’t recall every detail, as when the night had fallen, they shut down completely.

The only two who knew everything were Val and Gage, and those secrets they kept to themselves. How could they explain that Val had been the mother of God? Despite everything that she witnessed, everything she had been through, Val could not be convinced that she had carried a real _god_ within her. Hell, demons, Pyramid Head? They were all things she had seen and touched. Somehow, despite meeting her after ‘birth,’ God seemed so much more intangible than the rest.

Beyond that, the fight between Nate and Val was left as little detail as Val could spare about it. Even the truth of how Val had been changed, albeit temporarily, into a giant warrior was just too much. And no settler was missing the presence of the two masked giants that had disappeared right along with the strange young woman. Val and Gage agreed that “some shit was just too weird.” Better to have them let it go than try to plumb the depths of a fragmented reality. They had more urgent matters in the present.

Gage was even more skeptical, choosing to believe that Val had merely been a conduit, that she had never really been _pregnant,_ that the Ritual they had been coerced into was merely some sort of great magic trick. Val becoming a real Valkyrie was just another part of the setup. Whether Gage was in complete denial or lying to himself to justify the bizarre things he had seen was unclear.

The fog around the Commonwealth did not dissipate with the disappearance of God. Nor had anyone really expected it to. The monsters in the fog kept to their herds, filtering in and out of the ruins of Boston with migrant patterns that the Brotherhood had started to note. Word of how to pass safely went through every link in the caravan chains, and the studies of Scribe Neriah offered the people across the Commonwealth a new kind of safety.

For all that happened, it seemed that Val had gotten her one wish: In the new paradigm of their lives, the people of the Commonwealth were finally working together, no longer able to sustain an ‘everyone for themselves’ lifestyle with the permanent residence of the things in the mist. Raiders learned from the ambush tactics of one species to fight another. Super Mutants became guardians of small settlements, their payment in the meat of the creatures they slayed. The Brotherhood patrols turned from one form of peacekeeping to another, with the Minutemen intermingling in as scouts and exchanging information with Field Scribes. Gunners took their positions on the shattered overpasses seriously, sniping larger threats and thinning herds of creatures, documenting the movement they could see when the mists thinned enough. The Railroad’s focus shifted in the direction of using their skills for infiltration to guide people out of the dark, their lantern becoming a symbol of safe passage for all.

Goodneighbor and Diamond City repaired the fractured alliance once held by their feuding mayors. Both towns acted as invaluable way-points in passing from one side of the Commonwealth to the other, given the size of each settlement. Bunker Hill, as well, became just as important, with the caravans relying on it most for protection in the night.

It seemed that, for the time being, there would be peace. How long it would last, no one could really say. In the post-war world, long term goals had to be carried one day at a time. For the time being, people were content to focus on what was in their immediate futures.

In the aftermath of all that had occurred, Bonecrusher had decided to stay on as a member of Sanctuary, much to the dismay of the actual (ex)Paladin Danse. Though he called his decision another “debt” to Val for keeping him from losing his mind and wandering into the jaws of a creature that mocked the voices of the dead, Val believed it was much simpler than that. Super Mutants were communal, and even though things were improving, no one wanted to be alone in the new Commonwealth. That she noticed Bonecrusher attempting to take Strong under his wing was something she kept to herself.

In fact, Val had kept a lot of things to herself since that night, even things that Gage didn’t know, but he had a pretty good guess at. The whole affair had changed Val irrevocably, though she certainly played it all off as though things were going back to normal, as much as the term “normal” meant now. She spent long nights awake, either pacing the living room or patrolling Sanctuary with her rifle. She hardly needed to sleep anymore, and the insatiable “hunger” she had felt in the days following her return from Parson’s had drifted away. Gage did his best to squash the rumor of Val being the last Synth replacement of the Institute while she went through her own form of grief. He didn’t know what else to do. Val had been transformed, literally and figuratively. She missed the Executioner, though she assured Gage that she still very much loved him and still was his wife. He couldn’t bring himself to be jealous, not of a genuine monster. Not one that he would become someday.

In fact, the “affair” between Val and PH helped shift Gage’s perspective a bit more, understand Val better - she loved people with an unashamed openness. She might have been a bleeding heart, but Val was no doormat. Pity the poor sonuvabitch she decided to _hate,_ though _._ They’d never stand a chance. The Executioner, Pyramid Head, “PH,” was just another individual she had come to love. It made Gage realize how lucky he was, that Val chose to love ****him**** most, above so many others. He could never say so out loud - his rep as a “tough old Raider” still applied most days - but he didn’t need to. If no one else figured out his relationship with Val, they didn’t deserve to know. He was just glad he stuck around for the ride.

Val’s nightly patrols around Sanctuary allowed many of the settlers time to sleep. She kept her company in that of the robots, who didn’t need to rest either. Some nights, she passed the time at one of the guard towers, just staring up at the ghost of the moon above, the fog obscuring it enough to turn it into a pale haze. She missed seeing stars.

Weeks had passed since the Ritual incident, and Val wondered what came of her Executioner. If a month was ten years, then the passing weeks were becoming another decade to him. Did he remember her? Was her punishment served? Was his? Did he still exist?

So many questions she asked in the quiet of night, none of them were being answered.

Until…

The perimeter turrets still chugged with the unholy growls of the Otherworld, the influence of Hell seeped into the metal, turning them into rust-hued, one-eyed gargoyles that spit bullets. As part of the new Sanctuary, they kept a watchful eye on the exterior, ready to take down anything that got too close. Val learned one night that if any of them started firing, the others would leap from their posts and skitter across Sanctuary to join in, climbing all along the walls to find a good spot and open fire. The first time it happened, Val couldn’t even tell what had tried to attack - they had reduced it to bloody mush. Ever since that first incident, if a flock of wandering nasties was dispatched, the gargoyle-weapons would shuffle back into their places once they were done, keeping watch again.

Though mechanical, they did need “feeding” every so often of oil, gunpowder and empty shells, devouring the strange sludge and producing bullets. Val had no idea what they were _actually_ shooting and was content not knowing. The idea that they were shooting things to death with bullets of their own excrement was a popular theory, however.

It was on one of the quieter nights that Val noticed several of the turrets crowded around the western gate, facing the bridge to Vault 111. Though grouped up, the turrets were _not_ firing, looking more like a flock of curious metal birds than living machines. They grumbled and butted against each other for space, but whatever was out there seemed to be just beyond their reach.

Leaving her post, Val crossed over to the guard tower beside the gate and climbed, peering into the dark. While the turrets huddled around her, she caught a glint of metal hiding in the shadows of trees. Raising her gun, she looked through the scope toward the intruder, nearly dropping it again in her shock.

The Executioner stood on the bridge, just outside of the range of turret fire.

Val lowered her gun slowly. It could be a trick, she reasoned. There were still new things that appeared in the shadows - she had learned of the Fallen patrol that gave Nick and Quinlan a horrifying night. They took on familiar shapes and lured other, less-informed people to their doom already. Val considered the very cruel possibility that the fog was producing a Fallen just for her.

Still, the Executioner raised a hand, beckoning her out into the night, and she felt compelled to join him.

Val looked over her shoulder. Codsworth and Ada were on the other side, watching the bridge gate. The other turrets were occupied at their posts, only leaving the handful that had spotted him in the first place lingering close.

“If I scream, or you guys hear the sound of something eating me, just open fire, okay?” Val asked, regarding the turrets around her. None of them seemed to be listening, but she hoped they understood.

Climbing down from the guard post, Val went to the gate, leaning in to listen. Many of the night’s terrors made noises, their modus operandi to provoke fear most effective when the fog carried their horrid groaning into the wind, making it harder to detect their position. But no sound came from behind the doors, beyond the wind through the trees.

Taking a deep breath, Val opened the gate just wide enough to slip through, shutting it again behind her. She could hear the turrets shuffling, crowding together to watch, maybe even open fire while her back was turned. When no bullets ripped into her, Val released her held breath and continued forward, heading to the bridge where the Executioner waited.

“Hey there, big guy. It’s been a while, huh?” Val stood at the foot of the bridge, looking up at him, scrutinizing the silhouette before her. It didn’t appear to have the armor plates of Kellogg’s executioner form, nor did it have the shorter smock of the one that had impaled PH on his spear. It looked like ****her**** Executioner, well-defined instead of the creepy mass of tumors and roiling skin that the Fallen were made of.

“You don’t call, don’t write. Just run off with God, huh?”

The Executioner tilted his head to one side, regarding her. He took a few steps, the old wood under his bare feet creaking with the weight until more Otherworldly influence grew around it, turning the whole thing to iron.

“Damn, that is a neat trick. Thanks for the, I dunno turret-birds? Makes keeping watch at night really weird.”

In the hazy moonlight, the Executioner extended his left hand. Around his ring finger was a scar to match her own, as well as the circular one from his crucifixion. Not many of the Fallen reproduced such intimate details like old wounds.

Val sighed in relief, reaching out to place her hand in his. He squeezed his thick fingers around hers, his thumb smoothing over the back of her hand. Glancing behind him, she spotted his sword, just within reach, leaning against a tree. Her attention was shifted quickly, when he tugged on her hand and drew her into his body. Heavy arms draped down her back and held her there.

“Well, I guess you did miss me. I’d hate to think you were a ‘hump’em and dump’em’ kind of guy.”

Above her, a snort echoed through the metal mask and his chest heaved with his brief laughter.

Val smiled, gliding her hands up his chest.

“Glad to know I can still make you laugh, big guy.” She played her fingers along his collarbone, brushing across familiar, gray skin and stopping where she was used to finding metal brackets that stabilized the mask on his shoulders.

Tilting her head and frowning, she felt new scar tissue where she thought they might be; she reached further up trying to determine if she had simply missed them or…

“They’re gone. What-?”

Lifting his hand, the Executioner brushed it over her eyes, closing them for her.

“Okay…” Val kept her eyes shut, her heart pounding. She was used his enigmatic nature, but something told her this time was different.

A moment later, she heard something like the twist of an old lock, a breaking of rusted metal, and a heavy “thud” in the soft earth on either side of them. Shaking, she felt him hold her hands to his chest as he changed position, kneeling before her on the old bridge.

“PH?”

Slowly, her hands were guided up, over familiar shoulders to a _neck,_ to a column of scar tissue and sinew, over a shattered jaw and across a ruin of flesh. She could hear him breathing, his breath drawing as quickly as hers, but none of it came through the filter of rusted metal. She could _feel_ his breath over her fingers as she discovered the tattered seam of the mouth he had. Nothing for a nose, the eye sockets obliterated, if they still existed at all; a faceless man, made of weathered scar tissue. That was what she felt as he guided her hands across his unmasked head.

“Oh my God…” Val’s fingers were cold and trembling. She kept her eyes closed, in case, just in case, this turned out to be a cruel joke. At this point, she’d rather be comforted with a lie.

“ _Yes. God._ ” A voice! He had a voice! A terrible, deep rasp like metal scraping stone, but it was a _voice_ and it was _his_. She felt his broken jaw move when he spoke.

“She… she let you take it off? Can I look?”

“No.”

Val nodded, not wanting to violate the Executioner’s brittle trust in her.

“Why? Why… did God do this?”

“Gift.”

“For you or for me?”

“Both.”

Nodding again, Val moved her hands to cup the sides of his face - _his face! -_ and held him gently. Tears fell from her eyes and he brushed them away.

“I’m sorry, I just… It’s probably temporary, right?”

She felt him nod in her hands.

Drawing in a shaking breath, Val stepped forward, using her hold on him for guidance. She pressed her cheek to his, feeling the dry, ravaged skin against her own. In a way, his imperfect visage reminded her of the many ghouls she had come to know, and she was not put off by their appearance either. Carefully moving across his face, she relocated his mouth, drawing him into a kiss.

Encircling her in his arms, the Executioner pulled her close, closer than he had ever been able to while still trapped in his helmet. The yearning groan Val had been accustomed to melted into a warm, gravelly hum as she parted her lips, his alien tongue still long and prehensile to reach into her throat. Her own explored the wreckage of his mouth and jagged teeth, feeling like he had far more in his broken skull than a human should.

Held tight to her Executioner, Val looped her arms over his shoulders. She put her hands all over his head and neck, exploring the unseen flesh and trying to commit an image in her mind. Every time she thought she had it, the ephemeral picture drifted away, keeping his true appearance without the mask a mystery.

Breaking the kiss, Val, eyes still closed, leaned back. Putting her hand over his mouth so she could feel him speak, she murmured, “How much time you got, handsome?”

“Enough.”

Val felt his skin twist up to one side, into something of a smirk. Or maybe it was a smile; who knew? She couldn’t.

“Then, let’s not waste it,” Val said.

Letting her go, the Executioner left Val’s space, but she could hear him nearby. His heavy wrap hit the ground, spread out on the forest floor and he guided her to it. She started to strip eagerly, giggling as he made it all the more difficult by continuing to kiss her while he had the opportunity. She kept her eyes closed, and he rewarded her by holding her tight, his formless “lips” finding purchase on every inch of skin she revealed to him. It wasn’t just the fact that she could kiss him, but they could hold each other tighter, be physically closer than ever, which made Val excited to touch him every chance she got, too.

Laying out on the wrap, Val shivered as the cool night fog brushed across her skin, covering her in goosebumps. She hugged herself, the anticipation that she would be getting very _warm_ very soon making her shiver all over again.

“Can you actually see me? I didn’t feel any eyes…”

“Yes.” He leaned down over Val, covering her with his massive body. “Mine,” he growled, pushing his hips down into hers, his cock rubbing against her stomach.

“And you’re mine.” Val pulled him into another kiss, taking the time to break it up into a series of light pecks before he moved further down her body.

Continuing his earlier ministrations, the Executioner kissed and scraped her flesh with his sharp, jagged teeth, leaving nothing untouched. The freedom to explore made him take his time, mapping every part with his tongue in ways he had been unable to before. He sucked on her nipples, tugging the rings there with his teeth. He bit her flesh hard enough to bruise, every cry of pain blending with moans of ecstasy as Val encouraged him to leave her a mess. He tasted of her skin, licked the sweat from her body and left a trail of ragged bite marks, simply because he could.

When he finally made it to between her thighs, Val was trembling, her cunt already wet from his relentless teasing and biting. His cock throbbed painfully as he closed his mouth around her pussy, coiling his tongue and fucking her with it. Bucking up against his face, Val drenched his wrap quickly as she came violently, the juices dripping down his face. He lapped it all off her skin, sucking her cunt clean and leaving her breathless.

“Please, fuck me already,” she begged, and he was inclined to do so in his most feral, brutal way yet. But he had subjected her to that already. He planned to draw this out, use every second of his freedom while he had it, before the mask was to go back on, forever.

God had promised him one night, and he was going to make it last.

“No,” he growled, taking up Valkyrie’s hands and pinning them over her head. He lowered himself down to kiss her again, having to bend further than before to reach. She pushed her hips up, trying to goad him into fucking her with a wanton moan, but he gently settled her down with his hand over her stomach, pressing her to the ground. From there, he picked up his cock and teased her clit with the head. The soft moans against his lips were worth holding himself back. He missed those saccharine words, the delicious sounds he craved while they were apart.

Valkyrie pulled her lips off of his long enough to whimper another plea: “Make love to me?”

That made his whole body tense and shake with an irrepressible wave of emotion. He knew the word now, the one that had eluded him for so long. A singular word not known to his kind, a feeling they were not allowed to express. There was nothing like it in Hell, and yet she forced the message into his damned soul and whispered it into his unyielding flesh until it had woven itself into his very molecules.

Love. She loved him, and he loved her. He knew what it was and it fed him, soothed his broken mind and gave him what little surcease a creature like him could afford.

He decided to show his love by slowly pushing his cock inside her, stretching her cunt wide and making her experience every inch and piercing that she had missed. He paused, suspended above her on his arms, allowing himself time to relish the feeling of her writhing beneath him, trying to urge him to continue.

He hushed her begging with another kiss; every time he touched his mouth to hers, a new wave of feelings swept over him. These moments, every sensation, every stuttering thrust, he would savor for the coming centuries. Her sweet moans were a balm to the agony of his existence, as even without the mask, his ruined face ached as if it were still there.

He spent every hour holding her, his cock inside her - on her back, up on all fours, she riding his cock, back arched so that he could see her attractively scarred skin - and every moment, she dutifully held her eyes shut. He could not be known beyond her caress. It did not matter before, it did not matter now. He made her feel what he needed her to, with every slow pull of his cock to every touch of his lips to her sweaty, cold skin - a contrast to the heat that poured from her every time he made her cum, dragging cries of ecstasy from her bruised throat.

Dawn approached, the mists still thick, but the ever-growing light becoming a steady ache across his shoulders. For a moment, the Executioner considered letting himself burn, even in the dampened light of day, but he had no such luxury. He laid beside his former charge, having worn her thoroughly out in the course of the night.

Val curled against him, weak and shivering, this tender creature who claimed him.

“You have to go, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Will you remember me?”

“Of course.”

Val smiled, pressing a few trembling kisses to his mouth again. She wanted him to stay, he could feel that deep in her soul. How he would, if allowed!

“Think I could sneak in, see you some time?”

He chuckled, reaching up to brush his fingers over her leaking eyes.

“Not wise.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Val sat up beside him, the blue, misty fog casting her in a beautiful, deathly gray. He would remember that image forever, until he saw her again.

“I’m gonna miss you, big guy. Will you miss me?”

“Yes.”

Getting to his feet, the Executioner helped her up. His time grew shorter - he could feel the mask trembling from its place on the ground, calling on him to be replaced.

“Wait-” Val pulled him down for one last kiss, holding on as long as she could until he had to force her back.

From where the halves had laid, the mask leapt up by magic force and flew to him, snapping onto his head with a loud clap of metal. It struck him from behind so hard that he stumbled forward, dazed by the impact. Fresh blood leaked over his chest, escaping out from where the interior spines had struck him anew.

“Holy shit…”

He felt Val struggle to help him up while he got his bearings. Underneath the piercing rust, he felt new brackets grow into his shoulders, the bolts digging deeper than the prior ones had.

“I’m sorry, big guy. I didn’t know.”

He pressed a thumb to her lips. She looked up at him, boldly breaking her unspoken promise to see the metal mask right where it belonged: obscuring his head for the rest of Eternity.

His voice, strained and cut off by the collar that held his helmet in place, only came out as a guttural groan, but she understood that he forgave her. He had wanted more from her as well.

But God would only give so much.

She started to speak again, say what he could feel radiating from her soul, but he shook his head. He knew. She didn’t need to say anything.

Turning, he took his blade from where he left it and walked off into the fading arms of night, disappearing into the shadows as Valkyrie watched him go.

He would see her again, one day.

After all… he was still her Executioner.

****Epilogue I** **

Valkyrie died. Despite the changes to her body making her more than human, she never turned ghoul, never earned their conditional immortality. She aged, perhaps slower than other humans, but when her time was up, she passed - not in the heat of battle, but safe, warm, in Hancock’s statehouse. In the time since Gage’s death and their children growing into adults - even Shaun - Val reckoned her time as General was up, and she retired to Goodneighbor. It was a handful of decades before she left the land of the living behind, this time for good, her chances run out.

Crossing the threshold to Hell was quite different in passing. Rather than stumbling on a secret portal in the Parson’s basement, death came for her in her sleep, pitching her into a freefall until she landed, prone, on grated metal.

Picking herself off the floor, Val looked down at her body as she got up. She had been stripped of clothing; No armor, no weapons, naked as a jay bird, still matching the appearance she left behind on Earth: that of a sixty-year old woman, despite being much older still.

The walls were nondescript tile and grime, with nothing around her to indicate what part of Hell she was in. It was not the chamber she was most familiar with, the Executioner’s room. A table sat in the center; hooks and chains swayed from the ceiling, rusty and unoccupied. A few valves on the wall dripped water or vented steam, but otherwise, the space was quiet.

It was due to this quiet that she heard something else drop from the ceiling behind her, boots scraping across metal as the thing got to its feet.

Turning slowly, Val looked up into the hooded face of Valtiel.

“For fuck’s sake, I thought you were a goner,” Val groaned, her voice rough from age and the damage of a toxic environment.

Valtiel looked exactly the same as she had last seen him - even though it had to have been hundreds of years for Valtiel. The hole the Executioner had put in his chest was mended over, quite literally stitched back together with sinew. Other than that, he looked completely the same.

“God would never relieve Herself of Her attendant,” Valtiel said, bowing his head deeply. “However, this time, my work is simply Her command. I am to deliver you to Her, personally, when I am done.”

Val smirked. “So, you’re Hela’s little bitch boy now.”

Valtiel’s shoulders flexed back in his irritation with Valkyrie’s dismissal. He tilted his head to one side, still shivering in and out of focus as she looked up at him.

“I have always been God’s servant,” he replied, voice taut. “Wait, who?”

“Hela. It’s what I decided to call her when people kept bugging me about the strange girl that showed up - and then vanished without a trace. I had to improvise.”

Valtiel tilted his head at a severe angle. “You try to name God. How utterly _human_.”

Chuckling, Val changed the subject. His derision slid off her like water off a duck’s back. He didn’t scare her anymore.

“Not going to deliver me in a to-go box this time, are you?”

Valtiel scoffed and picked Val up, laying her on his worktable. “Of course not. God wants to see Her Mother treated with dignity befitting the role. I would not be so-”

“You’re in deep shit, huh?”

Valtiel leaned back and curled his body away, scaling his walls where his tools hung, glistening with fresh oil. He plucked a few, moving across the ceiling to others, depositing them all on his table as he passed over it.

“Oh, you’re in _really_ deep shit. You’re not even answering,” Val chuckled, folding her arms across her chest. “So, how many times have you kissed _my daughter’s ass_ while apologizing?”

Valtiel paused, hanging down in front of Val’s face.

“You’re very crude. I have prostrated myself before Her, and She has the grace to forgive my transgressions. Now, be silent. I have a lot of work to do to make you a proper creature of the Otherworld.”

Valkyrie started to sit up. “Whoa, wait a minute.”

He shoved her back down onto the table. “You’re not the Vessel anymore. I have to undo all the hard work I put into making you an Executioner’s toy. Now, _be quiet.”_

“Does God want you to change me? Am I gonna just be human again?”

“Yes. No. Shut up.”

Val laid back, drumming her fingers on Valtiel’s table top as she waited for him to get started. What kind of creature would she be at the end of this? It didn’t sound like she was destined for the role of Executioner, as much as the idea both relieved and disappointed her. They were judges of the dead, too. She didn’t really want the heavy helmet, but…

“Is it going to hurt?”

Valtiel drooped down with a bright, sharp scalpel in his hand.

“Of course it will.”

Val closed her eyes and blew out a nervous breath. “Just fuck me up, then.”

_“Gladly.”_

Hours turned to days into weeks into months into _years_ while Valtiel worked. He broke bones and pulled skin. Built and stretched Val’s soul over a new framework, one crafted to God’s specifications. Delicate skin was stitched together like fine lace and its elasticity renewed. Metal was forced beneath new muscle tissue and riveted to bone, preventing breakage. Every new addition was a handcrafted piece, a labor of Valtiel’s love for God.

During the first month, Val cried and begged for Valtiel to stop, but his orders were clear, and his purpose set. Once that first month had passed, her soul saturated with Hellish energy, the crying stopped. The agony was still there, but as it was to greater demons, it became part of the background static, no more a burn than the toxic fog from Far Harbor.

At the end of his labors, Valtiel dropped to the floor, exhausted. He leaned on his table for support, checking over Val’s new body for any imperfections in his work. While his last run on reshaping her was to suit his own purpose and grant her Rebirth for the living world, this was so much more, a build meant to _last_ , and God wanted it done as quickly as possible.

Perfection was not meant to be rushed! Even if he despised the mortal he was ordered to remake. Had he even more time, he could make her something else entirely, but God had been very specific.

Valtiel resigned himself to his chore.

_Her Will Be Done._

“Come now, sit up…” he said, pulling on Val’s arms.

“I feel different,” she groaned. Her voice howled like the winds of a tornado, her noises of discomfort the subtle rumbling of earthquakes.

“As you should. You are the Valkyrie for real now, a new servant to God’s Will,” Valtiel said, gently sliding her off the table and onto her feet.

Valkyrie examined her new form through touch: she was taller again, the length of her torso rebuilt with a segmented cuirass bolted into her skin. Her hands ended in sharp talons, her legs covered by an array of carefully-arranged metal plating that flexed with her musculature. She stretched, feeling heavy wings extend behind her, stiff from laying on her back so long. Reaching up to her face, Valkyrie felt a studded metal plate covering her eyes, but did not feel blinded by its presence. Her hands continued up, finding no crown of iron spikes - instead, the mask swept back into a graceful split from her brow into sharp peaks, the visor meeting a smooth helmet of steel riveted into her skull. Below the helm, her dark hair flowed freely around her shoulders, draping just far enough to cover her breasts.

Valtiel reached out, smoothing his hands over her armor, flicking off specks and polishing imagined smudges. His hands all over made Valkyrie push him off, sending him tumbling back with her new physical strength.

“Good to know your muscles won’t rip themselves to shreds,” he muttered, collecting himself from the floor. “You will need to be trained, properly, to use your new form. God has tutors in mind for you.”

“This is really weird,” Valkyrie said, looking down at her hands. “I remember who I am… er, _was_.”

“That was part of the design as well. She will explain it all to you.” Valtiel slid open a grate in the wall, climbing inside. “Come along now, she wanted you brought to her as soon as you were ready. I’ve taken long enough.”

Closing her wings around into a cloak, Valkyrie followed Valtiel into the pipes, watching him slither ahead in the dark.

After a immeasurable amount of climbing, Valtiel dropped through another grate, climbing out and hanging from the ceiling, like an overgrown spider. Valkyrie lowered herself through the hole, plummeting down in the dark. It was only on instinct that she managed to open her wings and slow her descent from a crash on the floor to a undignified flop.

Above her, Valkyrie heard a dark chuckle as Valtiel crawled down the wall.

“Fuck off. Not all of us can be sinuous demigods.”

Valtiel landed deftly on the floor, rolling his spine back just to demonstrate his flexibility.

“I didn’t know you knew the word ‘sinuous.’ Good for you.”

Valkyrie spread her wings, hissing at him like an ancient crocodile.

“Now, now, Mother, Valtiel, no need for you to bicker,” said a young woman’s voice at the forefront of the chamber.

Turning, Valkyrie spotted a throne of flesh, heaving and breathing as if it were made of a dozen people, broken and stitched together as furniture. Slouched sideways upon it was the same red-haired woman from Sanctuary, the one from the windows in Hell’s Church, her long, elegant dress flowing onto the ground like a river of blood. She smiled from her seat when Valkyrie gave her attention. Her blue-and-hazel-green eyes glittered with mischief.

Hela, God, whatever the young woman called itself, bowed her head to Valkyrie.

“Welcome home, Mother.”

Flanking God’s throne were two Executioners - one she recognized, the other she did not.

Folding her wings back, pacified by the presence of at least one familiar, friendly entity, Valkyrie relaxed. A smile tugged at her blue-stained lips, seeing her Executioner again. Her heart was gone now, dissolved to ashes during her rebuilding, but her chest still tightened when she saw him again.

“Hey, PH. It’s been a while.”

The one she named bowed his head toward her. He seemed calm, his sword in front of him, hands gripping the hilt lightly. He never viewed Valkyrie as a threat. The other was tighter in posture, wearing an apron of dark, stained leather, tucked into his boots like Valtiel’s smock. His skin was a little more tan than PH’s gray flesh, and he held a large tower shield, riddled with rusty spines of rebar. Both it and the eponymous pyramid helm were an unusual color.

Instead of the rust-red iron that was common among other Executioners, this one’s helm and shield appeared to be flaking yellow paint.

Valkyrie’s mouth slowly dropped open as the recognition dawned on her.

“Gage?!”

God smiled broadly, gesturing to the men on either side of her.

“You think I would condemn my fathers to an eternity away from their beloved daughter? They will train you to serve me. They are my most loyal-”

“My Lady, please-” Valtiel begged.

God shot him a glare for interrupting, and so Valtiel threw himself upon the floor, head against the stone.

“I am so sorry, my Lady. I beg only your forgiveness. I am but a humble-”

“Stop groveling, Valtiel. It’s unbecoming of you,” God said, climbing off her living throne. “Mother, you look lovely. You will be a fearsome emissary of my Will.”

Valkyrie canted her head, watching God approach.

“What do you need me to do?”

God clapped her hands together eagerly, bouncing on the balls of her bare feet.

“I’m so glad you asked! What I need is your fealty, and moreso, your help. I think it is high time that humanity sought the road to Paradise again, and _you_ will convince them it exists.”

Valkyrie stepped back, frowning deeply. “I’m not going to start up another cult for you. You can throw me right in the pit if that’s what you want.”

Valkyrie’s instant defiance made Gage and PH turn towards one another, exchanging a shared “look” at her boldness. PH shook his head; Gage nodded, as if he were still aware of himself enough to have seen this result coming.

“Oh, no, no, no, no…” God smiled again, her perfect, white teeth gleaming in the room’s dim light. “You’re going to still _help_ people. In time, people will draw their own conclusions.” God spun around, her dress flowing behind as she returned to her seat. “Religion was not born from a single prophet, a lone miracle. These things take time. To us, they will be but moments in the finite expanse of eternity.” God raised her arms and stretched them out at her sides for emphasis. “As humanity exists itself, a pebble in the river of existence, we will be but fleeting shadows upon it. Perhaps you would prefer call it a ‘blip in the radar.’ I would like to make the most of that blip.”

Thinking on it, Valkyrie tilted her head. “And what is it you would have me do?”

****Epilogue II** **

_“Hey, all you good folks out there. This is your buddy Russell Miles, transmitting live from the town of Sanctuary! Now, I know my grand-daddy, Redeye, was a master of storytelling, used to let all sorts of folks know about the Raider Legend of Atlas, the takedown of the Institute, and my personal favorite, the Story of Hell, how we all got these goofy-ass monsters and other critters out there. Now, I know my grand-daddy liked to strum along to his stories, and it just so happens that I inherited his guitar, and I’ve got a doozy of a tale for you… ahem…_

_“Rumor has it that there’s a new creature out in the wastes, and no one knows quite where she came from. What most seem to agree on is that it’s a woman, but some describe her as a tall, powerful beast with great black wings and talons made to rip the soul right out of your body. Others describe her as just a mysterious stranger, like you or me, but pale as the Fog itself, just another person who’s well versed in navigating the Commonwealth, day or night. The only thing that figure seems to have in common with the winged beast is that they both appear with a sound like the roll of thunder, even if there hasn’t been rain for weeks._

_“Now some, who’ve survived her wrath, they call her the Crow-Woman, when they see her in her true form, a fierce warrior that descends upon battles between bandits and the less fortunate, defending the weak, saving the innocent, and all that shit. In fact, the story goes that if you see her wings, it’s already too late. You’re dead where you stand, buddy. Your only chance is to run like Hell and trip your least-favorite friend on the way out._

_“Others say she’s just a figment of some people’s imaginations, a vivid mirage conjured up when people are at their lowest, dying of thirst or whatever. Those folks are the ones that see her alone, when the mists part just enough to let a little light in, and she guides them to safety. That’s when she appears not in a whirl of vengeance, but with an extended hand and a kind smile. Those who’ve encountered her say that she’ll get you to the road again, help you find your way, and sometimes, even walk you right up to your door. It’s only when you look away that she vanishes again, and that’s why people think she can only be a myth._

_“I, personally, don’t know what the hell she is, but if you ask me, she’s probably a really really weird Super Mutant, because really, who else is that friggin’ tall? Maybe she disappears because she’s got her hands on more than a couple of half-decent Stealth-boys, but who knows? No matter where she comes from or how she manages to disappear, they say that if you need her, you just need to call out to the sky, and she’ll come to your aid. If you’re in trouble, if you’re caught out in the dark, she’ll be there._

_“You might be askin’ me, ‘Hey, Russell! What’s her name, man? What if I need her?’ Well, shut up and listen, moron, ‘cause I’m only gonna say this once. If you need her, if you’re really desperate for help, get down on your knees, and direct your prayers to the one, the only: Valkyrie.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you got this far, thank you so much for reading and the feedback! It means a lot to me! <3

**Author's Note:**

> I headcanon that when Valtiel speaks in a human language, he kind of sounds like the Angel of Death from Hellboy II.
> 
> For images of Valkyrie and her hijinks in the Commonwealth, visit neverlandvalkyrie.tumblr.com
> 
> (PH is there, too!)


End file.
